Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Draven? Could you come here for a moment?”
Draven paused, holding a seething Rhea in a loose headlock. He let her go, and she drew back, hissing at him.
“You cheated,” she accused.
Draven rolled his eyes. “I never cheat—I don’t have to. You’re easy to get the upper hand on.”
“Forgiveeee me for not having years of training under my belt already,” she grumbled while waving her hands in the air and doing a terrible impression of Draven.
He huffed a laugh. “Want me to take it easier on you?”
Rhea stiffened. “What? No. You better not. If you do, I’ll—”
“—Draven?” Atlas called out again.
“Coming,” he responded back, not taking his eyes off Rhea. He smirked at her. “Didn’t think so.”
She clicked her tongue, and as Draven descended the loft steps, he had to smother his vindicated grin.
Atlas was near the back wall, sitting at his desk. Draven’s mother was out at the market, gathering supplies for a new meal she and Rhea were going to work on together. Suzumi had gone with her, while Rhea herself stayed behind to work on her combat training.
Over the past six months, they had worked diligently on refining her magic.
Yet the tradeoff to being a Nullifier was that the wielder had to know how to fight—and fight well.
There was no offense in their magic, only defense.
So what they lacked in magical prowess they had to make up for with sheer force and fighting technique.
Given Rhea’s natural temperament, Draven was keen on making sure she knew how to do just that.
“You called for me?” Draven asked as he neared the writing desk. Even more ink smudges were now pressed into the wood, and there was a particularly hilarious stain pressed just beneath Atlas’s nose.
“Yes,” he said, looking up from his writing. “I did.” He removed the brass spectacles from his face and cleaned the lenses. “I just received a letter from an apothecary, and apparently, she has developed a new medicine that might aid in soothing your mother’s symptoms if she has another attack.”
Draven’s face pinched together at the news. “But she hasn’t suffered from an episode in months.”
“I know,” he answered. “It’s more a precautionary measure. But I have both the dosages and instructions on how to administer the medicine, should she ever need it. Much like last time, I’d like you to familiarize yourself with it.”
“Alright,” he said with a nod. “I will.”
“Good,” Atlas chirped.
He returned to his writing, yet Draven didn’t walk away.
He wasn’t entirely sure why, only that he found himself confounded by something unnamable to him at that moment.
Since returning, Atlas had treated Draven as if he were his own.
Had been kind and good and fatherly. Yet he never asked for anything in return.
Never bribed him nor leveraged anything to get him to comply.
He was merely kind and thoughtful without expectation.
Atlas again glanced up from his work. “What is it?”
“Why are you so good to my mother and me?” Honestly, Draven wasn’t entirely sure where the question came from. But it was out of his mouth before he could think better of it.
Atlas observed him for a long moment. Eventually, he smiled softly, rose from his desk, and walked over to rest a gentle hand on Draven’s shoulder.
“Because I care about the two of you very deeply. Because, if you’d allow me to, I’d like to help take care of you both from now on.
” His voice was unbearably soft. It reminded Draven of how that man spoke to the girl with lilac hair that night in Rivara.
He blinked at Atlas, nearly speechless and battling a tightness as it wound around in his chest. For some reason, a peculiar question rang out in his mind, hungry for an answer. “Do you love my mother?”
Atlas didn’t hesitate. “I do. Very much.”
Draven chewed on his lip, his brows pulling together as he debated asking such a vulnerable question. Yet he decided, if not him, then who? There was no one better than Atlas.
“Do you ever feel unworthy of it? Of love? Like…you’ll destroy it?”
Atlas’s gaze softened, and he crouched down to meet Draven’s eyes.
“All the time,” he replied with an earnest, yet gentle tone.
“But can I tell you something? I suspect all of us are unworthy of such a purely sacred thing; yet at the same time, we wholly deserve it.” He chuckled, the sound tender.
“We are at once deserving and undeserving of love, and I believe we have our mortal souls to thank for that.”
Something cracked in Draven’s chest. “But do you think someone like me could ever be capable of it?”
His brows dipped as he regarded Draven for a heart-stuttering moment.
“I think you are especially capable of it. I also think you are deserving of both giving and receiving love. You have a good heart, Draven. One of the best I’ve ever seen.
” At Draven’s unsure expression, he attempted to catch his gaze. “Can I share some advice with you?”
Still averting his eyes, Draven nodded.
“You will have moments where you’ll feel like you ruined everything.
You will make mistakes—no matter how painful a thing it is to admit.
The key is to find someone who is willing to sit in those shadows with you.
Who will forgive you and love you in spite of your flaws.
Who will laugh with you. Cry with you. Sip sweet wine in front of a burning hearth while you ramble on about your passions.
” He pressed a finger into Draven’s chest, right over his heart—the action warm and kind and so different from how his father had once done the exact gesture to him.
“They will only see you for the substance of your heart—whatever that substance is. No titles. No strategic plays at power. They will just see you, and they will love you for it. Just as you will them.” He gripped Draven’s shoulder tightly.
“Now, you listen to this next part closely, okay?”
Meeting his gaze, Draven again nodded, feeling as though he needed to hear this as much as he needed oxygen.
“When you find a person like that—the person who sees the soul behind any and every mask—you never let them go. Ever. Even when it’s hard. Even when it feels like everything is crumbling—you never give up on them.”
Draven looked back at Atlas, feeling as though his whole world was shifting beneath his feet.
They will just see you, and they will love you for it; when you find a person like that, you never let them go.
He asked, “How will I know once I’ve found that person?”
Right then, the front door to the bookshop swung open, and Draven’s mother strode in, Suzumi on her heels.
A warm breeze rustled the pages on Atlas’s desk, carrying the scent of sweet juniper berries with it.
Atlas looked over Draven’s shoulder to lock eyes with his mother. Draven turned to lock eyes with Suzumi.
She smiled at him, curiosity glinting in her enchanting gaze, clearly wanting to know what he and Atlas were talking about.
“And what are my two favorite men conspiring about?” his mother asked, setting down a brown paper bag of groceries on a side table hovering in front of the large, rectangular shop window. She turned back, eyes finding Draven, then Atlas—where they lingered tenderly.
Through a smile that could be described as nothing short of reverent, with his eyes still glued to his mother’s, Atlas murmured softly to Draven, “You will know by the way they look at you. And if you are ever lucky enough to find a person who looks at you like your mother is looking at me right now, you never let them go. Understand?”
Draven nodded. “I understand.”
And he did.
The words felt forever engrained into some intrinsic part of him.