31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
P anic seizes me, and it steals all the breath from my lungs.
Father is ill.
The mining sickness has finally caught him.
No.
My chest constricts.
Not Father.
How could the gods be so cruel?
“You must go to him,” Viridian says quietly from behind me.
“What?” I whirl around to face him, my voice equally low.
“You must go to him,” he repeats. His body has gone so still, that if not for the rise and fall of his breath, one might mistake him for a statue.
“But—”
“Go, Cryssa.” His tone is firm. Cold, as it once was. “Your family needs you.”
And I need you, I think. Though, I dare not say it aloud.
“What about the High King?” I ask, my head swimming. “He won’t let me leave.”
“My father has nothing to say on the matter,” Viridian tells me. To Lymseia, he says, “Bring her now. Take my horse. It’s the fastest we have.”
Lymseia bows her head, body alert. Ready for anything. “Come,” she says, pulling me with her. “We must leave, now.”
I nod, letting her drag me forward. We make our way through the throng of guests blocking our path, quickening our pace once we reach the corridor. Lymseia breaks into a run, and I pick up my skirts to match her pace. We don’t stop until we reach the stables.
Effortlessly, Lymseia hoists herself up onto Nightfoot’s back, tugging me up after her.
Once I’m steady, she flicks the reins, and we take off into the night.
T he ride to Slyfell isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s ridden with panic, my fear growing as we near our destination. We ride through the nights, only stopping to let Nightfoot drink and rest. I barely eat during the four-day journey.
When we reach Slyfell, Lymseia and I ride through the city, passing familiar buildings and places I once knew.
We don’t stop until we reach my family’s small cottage in the human districts.
It feels strange to be back here. I’m not the girl I was when I left home. I’m not the Cryssa that used to live here.
So, I hesitate when I approach the door.
Lymseia stands some distance behind me, patting the horse. When I reach for the door handle, she re-mounts Nightfoot and takes the reins.
“You’re not staying?” I ask.
She shakes her head, eyes sad. “My place is in Keuron.”
The true meaning of her words falls over me. It weighs me down like gohlrunn .
Viridian doesn’t expect me to return.
When he told me to go home, he was saying goodbye.
I cover my mouth, eyes wide with the realization.
“Go,” Lymseia urges me. “See your father. I know this is not goodbye for us, Cryssa Thurdred.”
I nod. “Thank you. I will see you again.”
She offers me a weak smirk. “I’m counting on it.” Then, with a jerk of the horse’s reins, she rides off.
Taking a deep breath, I push open the door .
Acantha sits at our small dining table, a dim fire cracking in the hearth behind her. She rests her elbows on the table, holding her face in her hands.
I move to her immediately, touching my hands to her upper back and shoulder. “Acantha,” I breathe.
She snaps her head toward mine. Her cheeks are a bright red, stained with salty streaks left behind by her tears.
“Cryssa,” she sobs at the sight of me. “Please tell me that’s really you.”
“It’s really me.” I throw my arms around her, holding her tight.
“We sent the message to you not knowing if you’d ever receive it,” she whimpers, taking short breaths. “But we had to try to tell you.”
“I know,” I coo, rubbing my hand back and forth across her back. “How… How is he?”
“He’s stable, for now.” Acantha pulls away, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “He’s been asking for you.” Her bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t know how to tell him you were… That you weren’t…”
“Shh.” I pull her close again, lightly stroking her hair. “I’m here now. I’m here.”
I push whatever emotions I had coming in here aside. Right now, she and Father are all that matters.
Viridian was right. They need me.
And I’m not going to falter.
“I’m going to go see Father now,” I tell Acantha, stepping away. “But I’ll be right back.”
She hiccups, but manages to nod.
I cross the compact room to the stairs and climb them. Then I turn left, and step into Father’s room.
Carefully, I open the door and cross the threshold. My father lays in bed, propped up with several pillows. Knit blankets cover his chest, and his head leans to the side, eyes closed. Though labored, his breath rises and falls evenly, which comes as a good sign.
Still, I can’t help but wonder how long it will be before his condition deteriorates.
But I know it will be soon.
I swallow.
Father stirs, opening his eyes. He widens them when he sees me and rubs his forehead.
“Cryssa, my darling,” Father says, moving to sit up. “Is that you or have I started hallucinating?”
“Rest, Father.” I sit at the edge of his bed and hold out my palm to urge him back down. “It’s really me. You’re not hallucinating.”
“How?” Father’s brows stitch together, glancing down at my dress. “Is that… How did you escape?”
“It’s a wedding dress,” I tell him, my voice tightening. “And I didn’t escape.” My voice softens. “He let me go.”
Understanding flashes in Father’s expression, softened by a tender look.
“When I heard the news, I had to come see you,” I continue before he can ask me more questions. “How are you feeling?”
Father coughs. It’s an airy, grating sound. “I’m well enough, for now.”
I press my lips together.
“Truly, my darling,” he takes my hand and squeezes it. “You need not worry.”
“How can I not worry,” I start, looking away, “when no one has fallen ill with this sickness and survived?”
“There are a few who have.” To everyone else, Father sounds sure of himself. Confident, even. But I know him. The slight waver of pitch I hear in his voice tells me that he’s lying.
I say nothing and opt for slightly shaking my head instead.
Determination surges in my gut.
I can save my father.
I can save all the miners. I can stop the draining of the mines.
I can cleanse the kingdom.
Death’s voice fills my mind.
“When the time comes, you must choose. Choose life, without love, in a cursed land. Or choose death in the name of love, and sacred sacrifice.”
And something tells me that I’m the only one who can.
“Cryssa…” Father’s voice trails off. He takes both of my hands and looks me in the eyes. “If I don’t survive this, there is something you should know.”
“Father, whatever it is, it won’t change how I see you,” I say, firm in my resolve. “You’re going to live through this. You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“Please, Cryssa,” my father begs, and I go still. “You must know this, all the same.”
I lean back a little, brows raised.
Father’s gaze flicks down to his hands, and then back up to my eyes. “Your mother and I…” he pauses and takes a breath. “We aren’t your birth parents.”
My brows knit together and my stomach twists into knots.
“What?”
“When you were a baby, your mother worked in the service of Lady Helenia Pelleveron.”
“The younger sister of Lady Maelyrra?”
“Yes.” Father nods. “At the time, Lady Helenia was unwed.”
The sickening sensation in my stomach tells me exactly where this is going.
“Helenia had a lover,” Father continues. “A human. The relationship was short-lived.” Then he looks at me. “You are what came of that relationship.”
I force myself to breathe.
“Maelyrra was furious when she found out.” He says slowly, “She wouldn’t allow Helenia to keep you.”
“Of course not.” Anger bubbles inside me. “You know how the Pelleverons are with humans. ”
“I know.” Father’s voice is low. “When that happened, Nira brought you home. And you’ve been with us ever since.”
Silence sits between us.
The truth of what Father tells me sinks into my bones.
I’m not—
I’m not fully human.
I’m demi-fae.
“And Acantha?” I ask at last, feeling like a shell of myself.
“She’s ours,” Father murmurs. “Nira was already pregnant with her when you were born.”
I turn my face away.
“Make no mistake,” Father says, tightening his hands around mine. I’m compelled to look at him when he does. “It might not be my blood running through your veins, but I am your father. Nira was your mother. You are ours .” He reaches out to cup my face. “And you always will be.”
I nod, tightening my mouth to rein in my raging emotions.
“I should let you rest.” I gather my skirts to stand.
Father watches me through sad eyes. “I love you, Cryssa. More than anything.”
“I love you, too.” I give Father’s hand a squeeze. “This doesn’t change that. I just…” Swallowing, I find my words. “I just need time.”
Father smiles weakly. “I understand.”
I bend down and press a kiss to his cheek. Father closes his eyes, and I slip from the room .
Downstairs, Acantha stands by the hearth, stirring a pot that hangs over the fire.
“Stew will be ready in a moment,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.
Food.
My stomach rumbles with hunger. It’s been nearly two days since I’ve eaten.
“Wonderful.” I hesitate and look down at my wedding dress, dirty and tattered from the journey here. “Is there…”
“Your other dress is still in your closet,” Acantha tells me. Her stirring motions slow.
“Thank you,” I say. Then I head upstairs to my room.
I step into the hall slowly, careful not to disturb Father. Opening the door, I peek inside. Emotions I can’t seem to place grip me from the inside while my eyes roam the space. Taking it all in.
Everything is exactly how I left it.
Acantha’s and my twin beds sit in the center of the room, separated by a small, wooden nightstand. My old sketchbook sits on my bed, which has been neatly made—likely thanks to Acantha. The only thing missing is my cloak, which I know still hangs inside of my wardrobe back at High Keep.
I move farther into the compact room and approach the rickety wardrobe. I run my fingers along the worn wood before opening the door.
Acantha’s spare dress hangs on the far-right side. Mine waits to the far-left .
I pull it from the wardrobe and raise it to my nose. Breathing in, a familiar scent washes over me, even though I can tell it’s been washed in the time I’ve been gone.
Slowly, I cross the room and approach the window. Wrapping my arms around myself, still holding my dress, I stare through the glass. I look at the tree just outside. The one I used to climb down to go see Loren at night.
Some of its branches are cracked, still bare from the cold season. I yearn to open the window. To reach out and touch it.
But I don’t.
This time, I stay inside, remembering all that’s happened since the last time I snuck out. This time, I leave the window closed.
Returning to my bed, I set down my clean dress before freeing myself from my wedding gown’s tight bodice. Contorting myself to reach the fastenings behind me, I find myself missing Tiffy. Her smile, the ease with which she gets me in and out of gowns. Her soft, motherly nature, despite being so young.
I wonder what she would say if she were here.
Eventually, I loosen the bodice enough to pull it down past my hips. I step out of it and into my old, familiar dress. Once I’m clothed, I pick up my ruined wedding gown and fold it, placing it on the floor of the wardrobe when I’m done.
Taking a deep breath, I leave my bedroom.
When I reach the first floor, I see Acantha has moved from the hearth to the table. She sets out three wooden bowls—one for her, one for Father, and one for me.
She fills one and sets it aside before spooning hot stew into the next two bowls. Then, she places wooden spoons into all three.
“I’ll go bring this to Father,” she tells me, her tone still muted.
Sitting, I nod.
When she returns, she takes the seat next to mine and pulls her bowl closer. I do the same and lift my spoon, gently blowing away the steam.
She smiles at me, though I can tell it’s weak. “I’m glad you’re home.”
I return her expression. “Me, too. I’ve missed you.”
Acantha’s mouth wobbles. “I’ve missed you, too. So much.”
“I know.” It kills me, knowing I’ll have to leave her again so soon.
But I can’t stay. Even though I wish I could.
Now that I’m back here, it’s all the more obvious that my heart is back at High Keep.
With Viridian.
I take a bite of stew, chewing slowly.
I have to go back to Keuron to save my father. Whatever dark magic is poisoning him, the way to undo it is there. I don’t know how I know, but I do.
But I also have to go back for myself.
For my heart .
Acantha casts her eyes down, into her stew. “I understand if you can’t stay.”
That pulls my head up.
She meets my gaze, love and understanding shining in her expression. “We always knew you would never settle down here, Cryssa.”
“Are you sure?” I ask her. Guilt creeps into my chest. “What about Father?”
“I’ll look after him.” Acantha nods, emphasizing her words. She places her palm over my forearm. “Go. Live your life. We’ll be all right.”
I nod. Tears gather in my eyes.
Acantha pulls me into an embrace.
Glancing down at my bowl, she points a finger at it. “You’d better finish that first.”
I laugh, and then I do. Once my bowl’s empty, I run up to see Father. He cradles his own bowl of stew in his hands, leaning forward as he eats.
“I have to go,” I tell him, a sense of urgency permeating my words. I hug him and press my eyes shut for a moment before pulling away. “I’m going to help you, Father. You will be all right. I promise.”
Father arches a brow my way, opening his mouth as if to speak.
“There’s no time,” I tell him, already moving to the door. “I’ll explain everything when I see you again. ”
If I’m going to make things right with Viridian, and stop whatever dark magic is poisoning my father, then I need to leave.
Now.