Chapter 35 #2
The stone sears cold at first, then warm, the heat building beneath my skin until it floods through me. The pain dulls, then dissolves, replaced by something heavy and languid.
The smell of smoke curls through the air, and when he pulls the blade away, my breath catches. Somehow, the puffy, bright red torn flesh has knit together. The blood is gone. Only a faint mark remains, pale as frost.
Then he presses the dagger to the wound on my shoulder and hands me a vial to drink. A similar process is repeated, but I can almost feel the strength returning to my limbs. Unless, like the meager improvements from Thorne’s medicine, this is instant and potent.
“What did you—”
“I healed you,” he says. “Mostly. Enough to stand when dawn comes. The king won’t waste time waiting for you to recover.” His gaze lifts to meet mine. “Use what strength you have wisely.”
I can feel Cursed One stirring inside me again, like an echo against my ribs. Castien’s eyes narrow, as if he hears them, too.
“Your companion. Cursed One, as you say. Does she speak to you often?” he asks.
“She watches,” I say. “She doesn’t talk much.”
Liar. I’ve never spoken so much in my entire existence.
He hums. “Then listen closely when she does. You’ll need to learn her true name if you wish to have an equally yoked relationship.”
A low chuckle ripples through my mind.
Names are chains, Cursed One murmurs. You are not ready to hold mine.
“You’ll have to prove yourself before she tells you.
It took me many years to coax out the name of my own patron, but he has been a good partner.
It seems your friend has warmed to you much faster than what happened in my era.
” His expression darkens a fraction. “Be careful what you promise in return.”
He stands then, drawing his cloak around him. “Rest. The next trial will not be easier.”
“Thank you,” Vann grits out through the hole.
Castien’s mouth twitches. “Shame you couldn’t have done it yourself.”
Vann goes still. The insult lands like a blade.
The Living Shadow inclines his head once—to me, not to him—and steps backward. The torchlight bends and swallows him whole and the clear haze that allowed me to see into Vann’s cell fades back to solid rock.
Everything is much quieter after his exit, but I look back at my palm.
Will you let me use the power again? I ask gently. Immediately, a flame darkens my palm. I watch it, marveling.
“You are truly full of surprises,” Vann says. “Do you really think this is not just another way for Arion to control you?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t hate this power,” I say softly.
And it is true. My whole life, I have had to rely so much on others. I think…I have given too much power to others over myself. If I could have power, perhaps one not seen as noble as Estela’s goddess-touched power, then I could at least protect myself and my loved ones better.
Maybe…this isn’t so bad.
“Do you feel better?” Vann asks after I am quiet for a while.
“I do,” I say softly. I really, truly do.
I look to the hole in the wall and feel a small tug again. Something still draws me there, so I don’t move away. I sit next to it.
“I have missed you, Arlet. And this magic is…” He trails off. “It is surprising. But I trust you. If you think you can handle this, I have already seen you show the greatest restraint.”
His words touch me, and I think of all that time traveling with him.
“Thank you.”
I sit a moment longer. “So you are working with Mrath.”
“Yes.”
“What does Teo think of all of this?”
Vann doesn’t hesitate. “We are allies, and everyone wants you home safe.”
A knot forms in my throat. All those days and nights convincing myself that Enduvida was behind me, and my future was Shvathemar, but they hadn’t given up on me.
My eyes burn.
“So Mrath plans to become the next queen?”
Vann hums a yes. “But…I worry about that plan. She gave me a small magical object that we were meant to take to the throne. A seed, if you remember from when I first grabbed you. That seed is lost.”
“Fuck,” I say. “Is it really necessary to her plan.”
“From what I understand, yes.”
“So even if she comes—”
“—she cannot truly take power. To sit upon the Throne of Living Wood while unworthy could lead to death.”
That puts an instant damper on our conversation. I wonder if all of this and everything is in vain.
“So now that it’s gone, does she have another way to fix the throne?”
“I don’t know,” he starts. “I hope for the best. I have to.”
The possibility of death looms over me anew.
Vann breaks the silence again, slicing through my fearful thoughts. “You know, I once knew a story about a man who fell in love with a lake spirit.”
I am taken aback. After everything, it’s such a mundane thing to say. After the pain and anxiety. The separation and isolation, it feels like coming home.
“Oh?” I take his bait.
He hums. “In a scroll I think you’d like. When we make it out of this alive, when we go home, I can find it for you.”
My gut twists.
“Why don’t you tell me now?”
He pauses. “All right.”
I hear him shift closer, recognizing the small bits of me that are giving him an opening. Maybe that’s dangerous, but maybe it would be nice to hear a story.
“Each dawn, this man left offerings of lilies and honey on the water’s edge, and each dusk, she sang to him from beneath the reeds,” he says. “Each day, he would wade a little farther into the water. The villagers said the songs would drown him, but he stayed anyway.”
I am familiar with the tone Vann uses when telling a story. It is soft and gentle. Very…him.
“One day, when he was deep enough to be totally submerged, at the point when everyone thought that he would drown and die, his love came. Love did not devour his soul. Instead, she…” His voice stops.
I turn my head to the side, looking at the hole. “She what?”
“She kissed him.” He sounds breathless.
Gods. It has been such a short time since I last saw him, but the tone in his voice brings back every memory. I remember his kisses with such fierce detail. On my lips, my hair, my hands, my breasts. My skin, now free from the fever, burns again.
And suddenly, I long for the greenhouse, when he grabbed my face after weeks of not seeing me and devoured me. I remember the delicious pressure. The taste of him. I miss it.
My own breath goes shallow, and I wonder if he can hear it.
“He must’ve died then,” I say softly. “I doubt he would’ve survived a kiss for long.”
I think I can hear that bastard smile. “The opposite. She gave him the power to breathe underwater, and they made a home at the bottom of the lake.”
I turn to look through the hole and see the outline of his body.
“You lie,” I demand.
That smile I can’t see but hear so clearly comes back.
“You will have to wait until we get home, and then I can show you.”