Chapter 26 Dayton
Dayton
Ibloody hate Winter. Why does all this stuff have to be happening in the land of cold and ice?
Heat, I can handle. Balls dripping in sweat, sand so hot it sears the skin from your feet—no fucking problem.
But if I have to spend one more moment on this icy slab of a mountain, I swear my dick is going to freeze off, and then I’ll really be pissed.
“You doing alright, Day?” Farron looks over his shoulder at me. He’s wrapped in a heavy woolen coat, dark maroon fabric flecked with ice crystals. The hood has flown back to reveal his windswept hair.
“Oh yes, just peachy.” I force a grin on my face. “At least when we had to climb a mountain in Spring, we could ride goats.”
“They were ibexes.” Farron smiles. “It’s too steep and icy to take horses up here.”
Sucking in a mouthful of air, I try to focus on the walk.
If I have to look on the bright side—which Rosie always tells me to do—I suppose it’s nice to use my body after so long cooped up at Keep Wolfhelm and on the airship.
I need to concentrate on my steps, can’t let myself get too lost in my thoughts.
It’s easy to forget everything when I’m buried deep in Rosie or when Fare’s fucking me so hard, I see stars. But in other moments, the rare times I’m alone…that’s when it all creeps in.
You were dead.
Of all the people in the world, it was damned Caspian that saved me? He did it for Rosie, obviously. A part of me thinks I should be grateful. He saved Delphie from having a burden forced on her that she doesn’t want, from parting me from Rosie and Fare. He gave me back the life I love.
But another part of me feels…wrong.
I wrap my scarf tighter around my face. “Hey, Fare, distract me with some facts about this volcano.”
A smile lights up his pink cheeks. His voice cuts through the biting wind.
“Mount Rhuvenmark has been dormant for thousands of years,” he begins, “but there are old stories that tell of how it once erupted so violently, it carved valleys and rivers into the land around it. All of Winter was born from its fire.” He glances up at the peak towering ahead.
“The mountain used to be taller until the top blew clean off. The blast was so strong, the ash fell for miles. Or so the stories say.”
“Or so the stories say. Well, I’m glad old Rhuvenmark blew his load thousands of years ago,” I say. “Saves us a bit of a climb.”
Farron waits for me to catch up. Pulling off his mittens, he holds them in his teeth, then digs out Pointy’s map. “The entrance to the mountain should be somewhere around here.”
I snatch the gloves from his mouth. “Put these on so your fingers don’t freeze.”
He grins up at me, looking adorable as always. “Alright, then find the entrance.”
Narrowing my gaze, I stare at the rocky cliffside, trying to see past the blur of snow. “There,” I say, pointing. “The rocks are darker. I think that’s a way in.”
Grabbing Farron’s arm, I lead us closer.
There’s a small opening, barely visible.
We both have to duck, but inside, the cavern opens up.
Before us, a tunnel stretches, gray stone flecked with veins of shimmering frost. Stalactites hang like frozen teeth from the ceiling, but some of them are… dripping.
“Is it supposed to be this warm?” I ask, working on the buttons of my thick fur cloak.
“The rock blocks the windchill,” Farron murmurs, scrunching his nose.
We take a few steps inside. Farron’s hand flickers with power, and he mumbles under his breath.
Tiny bursts of flame ignite in the air, each unfurling into the delicate shape of maple leaves that glow a soft, golden orange.
The leaves drift lazily around us, casting dancing shadows on the tunnel walls.
“Beautiful, Fare.”
He turns to me, the flames reflecting in his eyes, and my heart skips. Damn, I love you so much. Then I wonder, Why did I just think that? Why don’t I tell him? Why don’t I scream it? I’ve spent so long denying my feelings for Rosalina and Farron.
“I love you, Farron.”
In the golden light, his cheeks darken. “What prompted that?”
“I don’t tell you enough.”
He smiles and holds out a gloved hand for mine. I take it as we continue deeper into the tunnel, lights dancing around us.
“This is curious,” Farron mutters. He breaks from my hold and walks to a section of the wall up ahead.
I move beside him. Carved images are cut into the stone, crude yet hauntingly beautiful.
Farron gestures, and his glowing leaves flutter closer, illuminating the pictures.
Fae figures are etched with flowing lines that suggest movement, as though descending from a castle in the sky toward a tall mountain.
Farther along, the drawings blur and smudge, as if marred by time or clawed at by someone desperate to erase their meaning.
Farron wrinkles his nose. “What could it mean?”
“Maybe they got invited to a really spectacular party down in Winter,” I say. “Good thing Kel wouldn’t be born for thousands of years. He’s no fun at parties.”
“My first assumption would be that it’s the fae of the Above coming down after Sira destroyed their home,” Farron says.
“There’s lots of art depicting that across the Vale.
But I’ve never seen a drawing like this.
Look here. These must be their portrayals of the Above and the Gardens of Ithilias. They don’t look destroyed.”
I stand behind him. “Are there any accounts of fae leaving the Above before it was uninhabitable?”
“Only the one of Sira’s descent.” Farron shakes his head. “Why would they want to leave? The Gardens of Ithilias blessed the fae with magic beyond words. Magic we see now only in the queen and fae who lived there.”
“Like Justus. Or Rosalina, who’s second generation.”
“Yes,” Farron agrees. “We princes may mimic their strength with our blessings, but the fae of the Vale only hold a seed of the power our ancestors did.”
I tilt my head at the blurry drawing of the Above. “Power like the creature that almost killed us?”
Farron is silent for a moment. “All the fae that once lived in the Above are long passed now. Justus has survived because he had Summer’s blessing once.
Besides, the assassin must have been a creature of the Below.
He had so many similarities to the goblins.
But it’s true—he was powerful. It’s a good thing Caspian was there. ”
“Oh yes, let’s all bow down to the great and terrible Prince of the Below,” I snap before I can stop myself.
Farron cuts me a look over his shoulder. “Never thought you and Kel would sound the same.”
A growl curls in my chest. A resentment I didn’t realize I’ve been holding on to. “Never thought you’d be like Rosie and fuck Cas.”
Farron stops and puts his hand against the wall. “Dead end.”
“Did you hear me?”
Sweat beads at the tip of Farron’s nose, and he shrugs out of his jacket and gloves, taking in deep breaths of the humid air. I follow suit. “We didn’t fuck. We kissed.”
“That would explain his scent all over you.” I can’t help this feeling crawling inside me at the thought of him kissing anyone besides me and Rosie. “When did you kiss?”
“In the Below, but that was a distraction. And in the library.”
“Why?”
“I spent a lot of time with Cas. Got to know him. I believe he’s a good person.”
“What about the fact that he’s stupidly hot?”
“I mean, he is.” Farron walks over to me and curls his hand at the bottom of my shirt, fingers slipping beneath the edges and over my heated skin. “But so are you.”
“Yes, I know but—” I sigh as he runs his palm over the length of my chest. “You’re distracting me. It’s not fair.”
“Day, if you don’t want me to kiss Cas again, I won’t. Simple.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He wraps his arms around me under my shirt, and I love the feel of him so close to me. “I love you and Rosie more than anything in the world.”
“I don’t think I’m jealous, not really. We’re all mates with Rosie. It makes sense,” I say, trying to sort through my feelings. “But what if I’d really died? I guess I’m realizing how easy it would be for you to replace me. You’re so perfect, Fare. Everyone loves you.”
He stares up at me and glares. Glares. “You’re not replaceable. And you’ll never die. You’ll never leave my side again. Do you hear me, Daytonales?” A dark command echoes in his words.
“I hear you, Fare.”
He grabs my shoulders and kisses me, open-mouthed and wild. “You know, it’s sexy when you’re jealous. It was always me so jealous of you bringing other people back to Castletree.”
It’s all I can do to force a smile at those pained memories. “I did it so you’d chase them out and I’d have an excuse to fuck you. Fare, they never felt as good as being inside you.”
“I know.”
Leaning down, I track my lips along the column of his ear until he shivers. “So if you want to fuck the Prince of Thorns, be my guest. At least tell me about it after. Or better yet, invite me and Rosie.”
Farron sighs, fingertips digging into my shoulder. “Anything you want, Day.”
“Though now I need to fill you up so Caspian can smell who you really belong to.”
Farron becomes boneless in my arms. Suddenly, I’m very glad we’ve ditched our heavy coats. I lift and press him against the stone wall. Placing one hand behind his head, I tangle my hands in his hair, rocking our hips together.
“How about your mouth?” I whisper against his salty skin. “I’d like to see my cum dripping out between these pretty lips.”
He smiles, eyes fluttering closed, and trails his finger down my chest. “What a good idea.”
I moan as he palms me, reaching out to brace myself on the stone wall. It gives beneath my hand. The wall trembles, stone grinding against stone with a deep, rumbling groan. I freeze, holding Farron tighter as a narrow passage splits open.
Farron leaps down from my arms. “What is this?”
“A distraction from your lips around my cock,” I mutter.
“That can happen anytime. This is a scientific discovery!”
I give a low chuckle, unable to deny the way my heart flutters at how happy he is. “Wait for me.”
Adjusting myself, I follow him through the dark passage, but something smacks me in the head. A wild scrap of paper flying around my head like a bird. I grab the parchment and unfold it. It’s Justus’s reply, interpreting Pointy’s last words.
“Ominous,” I muse. “But strange. It doesn’t make any sense.” I look up and realize Farron has gotten far ahead of me. I jog after him. “Farron!”
Light shines up ahead, a dull glow. I step out from the tunnel into a cavern and realize we must be in the heart of the volcano. Sunlight filters in from above.
Farron stands at the edge of a cliff, looking down into the dark depths. A rocky bridge stretches from this side to the other. Shadows flicker over him, catching the sharp edges of his jaw.
“You finally caught up,” he says, gaze cast downward.
“And let you have all the fun?” My throat is dry, scratchy from the dusty air. I look downward. Nothing but darkness.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Farron mumbles. “I expected to find the assassin’s camp or some other disturbance. Why else would it be marked on his map?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Let’s get out of here. Even if ol’ Rhuvie’s sleeping as always, I don’t fancy standing in the middle of a volcano.”
I let Farron lead the way back. For some reason, my pulse is pounding against my ribs. What was I expecting? To find the place dripping with lava?
Ridiculous. I crumple Justus’s parchment in my hand and slip it into my pocket. No use worrying Farron with it when it’s obviously nothing.
But just as I’m about to slip into the tunnel, I shoot a look back at the gaping darkness within the cavern. As fast as a lightning strike, a flash of green light illuminates the void.
Then it’s gone.
I squeeze my eyes shut and push my fists into them. Just a vision. Just a vision.
But the words the assassin uttered ring in my head, this time with a new voice, deeper and full of ancient malice.
Vemrís thu’ren calas.
Winter will burn.