Chapter 22
Hunter sleeps for three days.
I rarely leave his side, riddled with guilt as I am.
I sleep in the bed next to him, watching his breath, making sure it doesn’t hitch or stop altogether.
Fever keeps returning, like Death’s insistent knocking.
Every few hours I set my hands on Hunter’s chest, his cheek, his forehead.
I touch him wherever the heat rises, threatening to pull him back under the waves that tried to claim him. I won’t let him die on my watch.
As he sleeps, I read and re-read the thin green book Hunter brought all the way from Caerwen for me: The Silver Moth Society.
I’d set it as near to the fire as I dared, pages splayed to dry them as best I could.
The book doesn’t close flat anymore, damaged from both salt and water, but most of it is still legible.
This book is proof that the underground Sympathizers in Caerwen exist. That Grandmother was their leader. That there are more of them somewhere, hidden behind the Fox Palace walls and within the city.
I flip open the green cover to read the first page for the hundredth time.
The Silver Moth Society
A treatise on the demands of the Llwyn people in favor of the permanent destruction of the Fox King and all future despotic rulers.
My fingers linger over the names written inside the front cover. Most are still legible, though blurred. A few washed away completely, but not the first name, the one that started this entire journey: áine. My grandmother.
The door to Hunter’s room opens with a bang as it hits the wall.
“Enough.” The Wolf storms into the room and opens the thick, faded curtains. Sunlight streams in and I wince. “You can’t abandon all the progress we’ve made because the golden boy has shown up again.”
My skin prickles with irritation. “I’m not abandoning anything. He needs me.”
“To sleep? I don’t think so.” His jaw muscles visibly clench as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.
“If the fever returns—”
“Then you can heal him again, after you’re finished with training for the day.”
As much as I hate it, I know he’s right. Hunter is out of danger, at least for now. He just needs rest. He’ll wake when he’s ready.
Tristan tosses a pile of clothes at me. I hold them up to find my leather pants and a clean tunic. My body aches in protest. I’ve barely stretched in days, let alone practiced with weapons.
“I’ll meet you in the usual place,” Tristan says, his voice even, before he walks out of the room.
I hesitate for a long moment, my fingers curling around the edges of the little green book.
Finally, I change into my leathers, but I pause at the door.
My eyes linger on the salt-stained book I left on Hunter’s bedside.
In a rush, I snatch it up again and tuck it into a pocket sewn into the lining of my cloak.
This book has travelled a long way to return to me, and I don’t want to risk losing it again.
Something tells me this book is more important than I ever realized.
When I find Tristan at the castle’s entrance, he doesn’t lead me out toward the training yard.
Instead, I follow him around the perimeter of the castle.
The snow glistens with a thin layer of ice on top, and our feet crunch through with each step.
The gray sky suggests there’s more freezing rain and snow to come.
It hovers along the edge of the Spires, as if waiting for the right moment to crash in on Gwyllion.
Tristan leads me to a wing of the castle that’s so crumbled it’s practically in ruins.
There’s no roof to speak of anymore, and trees grow out of buckled cracks in the slate floor.
I stare up at the remains of fortress-like towers and leaning buttresses.
Vines scale up their walls, barely holding together what was meant to fall ages ago.
A cold, bitter wind blows. How many more winters does the castle have before its fae magic fails entirely, leaving the rest to crumble to dust?
Tristan leads me around piles of rubble until we come across a thick, wooden door.
Its hinges are no longer attached to the door frame.
It leans against the entryway at a steep angle, a snowdrift covering half of it.
Tristan makes quick work of removing the frozen layer of snow, then pulls the door away from its resting spot.
Inside, there’s a dark hallway leading into the forgotten depths of the castle.
I raise an eyebrow at him in question. “Are you sure this is safe?”
“Not at all.” He walks into the corridor, disappearing into the dim interior.
“Lovely.”
I eye the doorway, then follow the Wolf into the dark. I reach inside of me to ignite my orb of light, but Tristan interrupts my concentration.
“There’s no need.”
I’m not sure about that, but I quiet my power in my core, anyway. Darkness, it is.
My eyes widen as I try to make out details in the crumbling corridor. I follow Tristan into a large, open space, like a cavern beneath the ground. Our footsteps echo against the stone.
“What was this place?” I ask. The air is so still, it feels frozen in time.
Next to me, I feel Tristan shrug. “Likely some old ballroom or great hall. It’s hard to know now. Much of this castle was built upon the remains of the castles before it. As far as we know, this might be the fourth or fifth version.”
I blink at the darkness. The shadows are so consuming, all I can make out are different shades of black. I know the ceiling is tall because the shadows darken up above. How wide the room is, I couldn’t guess. The only light comes from the distant doorway that leads outside.
Damp air clings to my skin, thick with the scent of earth.
“Why bring me to a dark pit when you can create shadows yourself?” I ask.
Tristan circles me, his boots scraping softly against the uneven floor. I watch him move gracefully as a panther. “Because today, you’ll be using your light as a weapon.”
“What?” I shake my head. “My light isn’t a weapon, you know that.”
“I know that’s a lie. I’ve seen you use it.”
I throw my hands up into the air. “Those weren’t normal circumstances. It just … happened!”
“Therefore, you can do it.”
“Not intentionally!”
“We shall see about that.”
I wonder how much the Wolf can see in this darkness. I throw out a rude gesture, just to test him.
“You’re wasting time, Red. Ready yourself.”
Jaw tightening, I unclasp my cloak and let it fall to the ground. It thuds with the weight of the book. I step into a defensive stance. My pulse thrums in my ears.
“Call forth your light. What little you can of it, in any case.”
I bristle at his words but say nothing. I lift my hands, summoning a glowing orb into my palm. The familiar sight sends a thrill of pride through me.
Tristan snuffs it out.
I gasp, stepping back.
“Again,” he commands.
I summon my light once more, focusing with all my strength. It’s brighter this time, pushing against the darkness. For a moment, it holds, before Tristan’s shadow slips through, devouring it. My frustration spikes.
Before I even ignite another orb, there’s a sudden shift in the air and a wall of darkness collides into me. Tristan’s shadow takes me by surprise, and I lose my balance. I hit the ground hard, my breath rushing from my lungs.
I sit up, rubbing my hip where it hit the ground. That will leave a nasty bruise.
Tristan stands over me, unimpressed. “You would be dead right now if this were a real battle.”
Anger sparks hot in my chest. “You cheated.”
Did I seriously kiss this man a few days ago? The Wolf stands over me, his posture distant and unforgiving. It’s like I’m a stranger to him.
“The world doesn’t play fair, Red. Get up.” His words are clipped, sharp.
I push to my feet, fists clenched. “This isn’t training. This is humiliation.”
He steps closer, shadows coiling at his feet like snakes. “You think I’m being cruel? I’m trying to keep you alive. Because one day, someone will come for you, and they won’t wait for you to be ready.”
I swallow hard, but the anger doesn’t fade. “And you think breaking me is the best way to teach me?”
“I’m not trying to break you. I’m trying to make you stronger.”
“Because everyone here thinks I’m so weak, is that it?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Are you sure you’re not trying to punish me for something?”
His jaw tightens. I’ve hit a pressure point. He doesn’t respond.
I cross my arms in front of me. “This is about Hunter, isn’t it?”
Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. My chest heaves, frustration twisting inside me.
“This is about learning to use your power.”
I scoff. “Well, I can’t control it like that. Do you really think humiliating me is going to change that?”
“You can do it!”
I step up to him, my skin radiating with fury. “I can’t!”
“Stop saying that!” He runs a hand through his messy black hair in frustration. Then, after a moment, he turns back to me, intense and close. “I saw you use your power to bring a man back from the edge of death.”
“That was different.” I sound petulant, but I don’t care.
“How? How was that different, Red?”
“I …” I stumble over my words. The truth is, I don’t know. When I saved Hunter, my instincts took over. It’s as if everything in me needed Hunter to stay alive. “I don’t know.”
Tristan watches me for a long moment. “Well, that’s what we need to figure out.”
If only it was that easy. I don’t know how I was able to call my power back from burnout, but I’m not sorry about it. With its warmth safely in my core, I’m finally starting to feel more like myself again.
“Let me ask you something.” Tristan studies me, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What you did to Hunter on the beach, how is that any different from reanimation?”
“What?” This change in direction has me slightly stunned. “That was healing, not reanimating a corpse.”
“From where I stood, it looked a lot like bringing someone back from the dead.”
“It wasn’t.” I hiss. “It isn’t the same.”
He raises an eyebrow, watching me.
“He wasn’t dead!”
“So, the difference between your light power and my shadows is just perspective? A slight change in the subject’s circumstance?”
I glare at him through the dark. “I’m not going to dignify that with an answer. You’re just trying to bait me.”
I’m done with this conversation. I turn to walk toward the exit, back toward the light. Back toward Hunter.
The Wolf’s voice follows me. “And why would I do that?”
I whirl back toward him. “Because you’re jealous!” The second the words leave my mouth, I regret them deeply.
His face grows still, and I swear I see the smallest flicker of hurt cross his gray eyes.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“Do you love him?” he interrupts.
“What?” My face freezes.
“You heard me, Red. Do you still love him?”
“I …” My brain is whirring, trying to come up with a simple answer to that question. “It’s complicated.”
Tristan shakes his head. “No, Red. It really isn’t.”
“And what would you know about love?”
Tristan swallows hard. “I may not be Hunter with his flowery words and his grand gestures, but do not mistake me for being any less of a man.” He takes three steady steps toward me and pauses, just out of reach. “And I do know the sting of love. For me, it isn’t that complicated.”
He stares at me for a long moment as my pulse quickens and my heart races in my chest. His voice drops to nearly a whisper in the darkness. “And I think you already know that.”
Tristan passes me and doesn’t look back.