Chapter 36 #2
He turned and led us down a stone path that veered inland and up a slope toward a large hut woven from silvery reeds and sun-bleached driftwood. Its roof was thatched with broad, shimmering leaves, and runes glowed along the arch of the doorway.
Inside, the air was warm and dry. A fire crackled softly in the center, though no smoke escaped into the room. Beds were arranged in a semi-circle, made of plush woven mats and sea-fern blankets.
Zander looked around. “This is... peaceful.”
I turned to Dormeal. “Are our friends safe down on the beach?”
“They will barely notice you’ve left,” he said. “Time bends in the Fae Sanctuary. Minutes pass like hours beyond the barrier, but here, all is still. All is protected.”
He gave a small bow and stepped outside, the woven door falling quietly shut behind him.
Zander let out a measured breath and collapsed onto one of the beds, dragging a hand down his face.
I wasn’t sure whether sleep would come easily.
But at least, for tonight, we were safe.
We lounged on the thick sea-fern mats, our bodies stretched across the plush, rune-woven bedding. The fire in the center crackled with silver-blue flames, and the soft scent of salt and lavender filled the hut.
“I still don’t understand how this place has remained hidden all this time,” Cordelle said, propping himself on one elbow. “The Blood Fae are right outside.”
“Wards,” Riven muttered. She lay on her back, tossing a small glowing pebble into the air. “And enough fae magic to blind the gods.”
“It’s not just hidden,” Naia added, from her spot near the fire. “It’s preserved. Like it never fell with the rest of the isle.”
There was a knock, soft but deliberate, at the woven door. Dormeal entered, carrying a curved tray made from polished shell. Upon it were shallow bowls filled with something that shimmered like dew-drenched fruit and another platter of thin, warm flatbread wrapped around a steaming, savory filling.
He placed the food gently on the center stones. “Eat. You’ll find it sustaining. Grown and harvested here, infused with sanctuary magic.”
The moment he left, the smell hit—sweet and spiced, with a floral edge.
I tore into the bread first. “Oh gods…”
Zander chuckled, biting into his own. “Okay, I’ll bite.”
The flavors exploded. Honeyed root with firefruit glaze and something akin to peppered meat, but far richer. I didn’t even want to ask what creature it had come from. My body warmed with every bite, not just from the heat, but from some deep, glowing satisfaction that reached the core of me.
The bowl held slices of something translucent and melon-like, but when I popped one in my mouth, it crackled with cold and fizzed like starlight against my tongue.
Riven groaned. “If I die tonight, just know I was happy.”
Zander shifted closer to me, his thigh brushing mine, and my breath caught. The warmth of him wasn’t just physical. I could feel it—his magic pulsing beneath his skin like a second heartbeat.
Stormlight and Dark Fire. Always dancing between us.
“You’re still burning,” I murmured, setting my bowl down.
“So are you.” His voice was raspy, but it curled around me like velvet. “I think our magic never really... untethered.”
No, I thought. It hadn’t. And maybe, here in the sanctuary—where time bent and the rules of the outside world faded—we could afford to burn a little brighter.
My attention was drawn to Ferrula.
She had her boots propped on the edge of the stone table, a half-eaten fruit slice in one hand and a dagger in the other, spinning it casually between her fingers.
“Careful,” Jax said from across the room, where he was trying and failing to braid a rope of dried seaweed. “You almost look relaxed. People might start thinking you’re approachable.”
Ferrula’s eyes flicked up, a smirk curving her mouth. “Only thing people should approach me for is a lesson in gutting someone sideways.”
“Ah, romance,” Jax sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “You always know just what to say to make a man feel cherished.”
She whipped the dagger. It embedded in the wall next to his head with a precise thunk.
Jax didn’t even flinch. “Foreplay?”
“You wish,” Ferrula said, stretching like a cat. “If I wanted you, I’d have already dragged you into that bed and broken you.”
He tilted his head, lips twitching. “You say that like it’s a threat, but it’s an average Tuesday for us.”
From the corner, Riven muttered, “They’re going to kill each other one day, and I’m not even sure who to bet on.”
“I’d bet on Ferrula,” Naia whispered. “She’s faster.”
“I heard that,” Jax said, pointing an accusing finger at her.
Ferrula stood, sauntered over, and plucked the rope from his hands like he was a toddler playing with string. “This isn’t how you braid anything, Jax. Give me that before you strangle yourself accidentally.”
He grinned. “You do care.”
She snorted and shoved him with her shoulder as she passed. “I just don’t want to have to clean up the mess.”
He called after her, “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
Ferrula didn’t answer, but her smirk was all the reply he needed.
Jax leaned back on his elbows, a cocky grin stretching across his face. “You know,” he said, voice just loud enough for the entire hut to hear, “I must be doing something right in the bedroom. Ferrula hasn’t stabbed me in a week.”
Ferrula didn’t even blink. “Only because I’ve been too satisfied to reach for my blades.”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room, even as Remy shook his head with a snort. “That’s disturbing on several levels. But I have to admit, whatever you’re doing, it’s working.”
Jax winked. “I do a lot of things right.”
Ferrula gave him a slow, wicked smile. “Remy, if you’re feeling inadequate, I’m sure Jax can give you some coaching.”
Before Remy could respond, I raised a brow and leaned forward. “Remy doesn’t need help in that area.”
He arched a brow, smug for a heartbeat, until I added, “He could use some coaching from Cordelle instead.”
Cordy, who’d been quietly munching on a fruit slice, paused mid-bite. “Me?” His voice cracked slightly. “Why me?”
Naia grinned from her place near the hearth. “Integrity. And just being an all-around lovable and special person.”
Cordelle’s cheeks turned the color of sunset. He tried to hide behind his hair, but even in the firelight, we could see the glow. “I—I don’t even—”
“I agree,” Riven cut in, voice firm. “You’re the best of us, Cordy. If Theron tries to take you from us, I may just kill him myself.”
Cordelle swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t really…”
“Oh, I would,” Riven said, matter-of-fact. “You’re not allowed to go be some stiff-robed, candle-snuffing lorekeeper.”
“We should talk about that,” I said, sobering. “They’re still expecting you to take the lorekeeper seat, aren’t they?”
Cordelle nodded. “Yeah. Once my father passes. I’m the only viable heir left.”
“But you don’t want it,” Ferrula said, not a question.
“No,” Cordy admitted. “I want this. Us. Kaelith and Kass. The squad.”
“We’ll find a way,” Zander said quietly from beside me. “Once this mission’s over, we’ll talk to Dorian. We’ll see if we can train another.”
“I could stage a kidnapping,” Jax offered. “Very convincing. Lots of chaos. Maybe a little nudity.”
Cordelle groaned, but there was a smile hiding in it. “Thank you. All of you.”
“You’re stuck with us,” Naia said, tossing a cushion at him. “Lorekeeper or not.”
Cordelle caught it and settled deeper into the bedding. “Good.” His voice was soft. “Because I don’t want to leave my family. After my father passes, this is all I have left.”