Chapter 42
Forty-Two
Celestite
The next day, we follow the same narrow path through the decaying woods. My back is stiff from sleeping on the ground, and my stomach aches with the rations we’ve portioned to keep from spending all of our money too soon.
The deeper into Crea’s countryside we get, the more a sense of unease begins to slither into my stomach. Dodder vines seem to wrap around every other tree, cutting across the path and infesting the ground so that no grass has been able to sprout.
Runnswick had its infestations of the horrible vines, but not like this. Even the birds barely chirp, and the creatures of night don’t seem to have a place to land. Has it been like this, or has it gotten worse since I was last here?
We’ve hardly passed any travelers—thanks to either the colder season rolling in or the sparse population—but we likely won’t be so lucky the closer we get to the castle.
“How much further?” Adrian asks the next morning, my muscles aching from two nights in a row on the hard ground.
“We passed a marker before we camped last night,” I remind him, my voice clipped. “We should reach the next marker by midday.”
Adrian sighs, his hair sticking in all directions and hands dirty as he tears pieces of bread from a loaf we’re all sharing. “My uncle is going to be furious when he learns of the journey we took to get here,” he mumbles.
Annoyance prickles at my neck, but the mention of his uncle grabs my attention. We still don’t know how the duke decided to convince Adrian to leave the castle to pursue me. If it was because he knew who I was, or simply a good excuse to get rid of Adrian.
“What does Duke Wyman think of us?” I press, my voice light, trying to sound relaxed. “He didn’t seem to know the extent of our…connection before I left.”
I feel Graylen’s attention slide to me, but he remains quiet. We need to learn all we can about Duke Wyman. Adrian doesn’t need to know it’s because he’s the last human king from whom we’re currently trying to steal a magical dagger.
“I shut down after the night you escaped.” Adrian looks sheepishly up at me. “Locked myself in my chambers and didn’t talk to anyone for a week. My uncle tried to get the story out of me, but I was so hurt, I couldn’t—”
He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t tell anyone what happened. I was prepared to let you go. But he guessed that I was in love with you and when I refused to wed every prospect he proposed, confirming his suspicion, that’s when he concocted the plan for me to go get you.
“Him and the soldiers present knew how you all fled through the tree using magic, so he was worried what state I would find you in. That’s when he told me he had something to dampen your magic long enough for me to talk to you. And from there…you know the rest.”
I swallow my surprise that Adrian didn’t run straight to his uncle to fix the problem for him. That he kept it to himself how he felt about me—and was nearly prepared to let me go.
“I didn’t tell your father,” he adds quickly. “I told my uncle to keep Reichardt out of it. I hated the way he treated you—it wasn’t in the plan for him to come, but…my uncle said he had to go.”
Blessed Divine, Adrian actually managed to keep his mouth shut for once.
We fall into silence, a conflicted feeling rolling through me. Even though Adrian kept some semblance of respect for me, he still bent to Wyman’s will.
Though it’s hard to blame him for not standing up to someone with hundreds of years of experience in manipulating people.
Come night, I take first watch, the soft snores of both of the men mixing with the whoosh of the wind around us. It’s a cold evening, brisk temperatures rolling in the moment the sun sets.
Even when my eyes begin to get heavy and my body begs for sleep, I don’t wake Graylen. We’ll be in a new town soon, and I haven’t been able to quiet my mind long enough to rest the last few nights anyway.
Instead, I peer down at the fire Graylen made crackling in front of me. It dances differently than a normal flame, the movements slow and even like Graylen. The tendrils bend toward him, licking alongside the edge of our makeshift pit as if reaching for him.
I smile, thinking about how the grass in Penyth does the same thing. My grin fades almost as quickly as it appears. Nothing in Crea does that. Not unless it comes from a fae, like this fire.
Everything here is tainted with darkness, choked by Vidaris’s hold over it. We have to find a way to break the curse between the realms—to save Crea before it falls completely into Moros and Vidaris’s hands.
I rub my eyes, the list of things we have against us piling up each day. I wish I knew what Leda was doing—what my mother was planning with the council to prepare for this brewing war with Crea.
There haven’t been any signs of preparation for battle yet, but we’ve yet to see the castle—yet to see Moros and what he’s done with Runnswick.
“Lu?” Graylen’s gravelly voice pulls me from my thoughts.
I look down at him, a sad smile on my face as I reach for him. My fingers fan out across his chest as I place my palm right over his heart—the steady thumping rhythm bringing me back to the present.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll wake you up in a bit.”
He places his hand over mine, engulfing it in his grasp.
As he drifts back to sleep, I watch him. My eyes trace over the features of his face—a jaw lined with stubble, full lips that calm the fear inside of me, long and dark eyelashes that flutter against the tops of his cheeks as he falls back asleep.
My heart aches at his beauty—his strength.
Looking at him, I know we’re going to be okay. We may not have all the answers, and the odds may feel stacked so high against us that we can’t see a way through it, but we have each other.
His fingers twitch around my hand, squeezing lightly, as if saying, I’m here. We’re okay.
I swallow, my eyes welling up as I thank Eurydice for bringing this man to me. Together, we’ll find a way.
The following day, we finally reach the next marker indicating where we are, a small post between a fork in the dirt path. Carved onto it is an arrow pointing to the right that reads Saltain, while the left points to Lyland.
My throat constricts. I don’t realize I’d pulled back on the reins until I feel Graylen’s warm hand press against my upper thigh from behind me.
“Lu?” His smooth voice sinks into my mind.
When I don’t answer him—my eyes stuck on the sign—I feel him lean to the side, looking over my shoulder to see what’s caught my focus. Adrian is already steering his horse to the right, toward Saltain.
Memories flood in of maps strewn across tables in the castle library, Linnick and I stooped over them as we devised our plan to escape the castle. To Lyland. I can’t fight the emotions that sweep in with the memories, the grief that pierces my heart.
That time in my life was so…different.
The thought of leaving Runnswick was the only thing that kept me going while stuck in the castle during the matching.
Adrian hasn’t noticed we stopped, oblivious to the turmoil rolling through me.
“When I first met Linnick, you two were in the library,” Graylen says quietly, Adrian well out of earshot. “But before that, I stood outside in the hall and listened to you two talk about your plans to leave—to go to Lyland.”
I twist around, craning my neck to look at him. “You what?”
The left side of his mouth slopes up. He tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his eyes crinkling slightly in the corners. “Don’t be mad, little princess,” he murmurs, his lightness warming my chest. “I found every excuse I could to be around you one way or another.”
My nostrils flare, and his small grin turns into a full-on smirk.
“One way being spying on me,” I mutter.
He nods, not trying to deny it. “I prefer to call it ensuring your safety,” he tosses back.
My mouth curls into a small smile as I say, “Call it what you want, little soldier; it’s still spying.”
His grin falls at the nickname, and he narrows his eyes at me.
“What?” I smirk. “If you can call me little princess, then I can call you little soldier.”
He shakes his head, slow and deliberate, and leans in toward me, his chest brushing against my shoulder. “You can call me whatever you want as long as you call me yours,” he whispers.
My lips part as his gaze drops down to my mouth. I miss him, miss his warmth and security.
Graylen leans toward me, and my breathing stalls.
“Uh, you guys?” Adrian calls out, breaking the spell that Graylen somehow always finds a way to put me under. “Is your horse broken or something?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and face forward, any amusement fading. We were so close—so us for just a moment. A lump forms in my throat as I look away from Graylen. I wonder if we’ll get back to who we were if I lose my magic and we don’t find Nightfall.
The thought sends a streak of lightning straight to my chest, striking the tender parts of my soul.
“We’re going through Lyland,” I call out to Adrian, shaking myself out of my spiraling thoughts. With a short whistle and a squeeze of the reins, Misty trots forward, headed to the left side of the forked road.
“Lyland?” Adrian questions, the corners of his mouth turning down. “The coast of Saltain is much nicer for travel.”
Even as he protests, he follows us, turning his horse to cross through the grass and join us on the path.
“Will it cost us time to go through Lyland instead?” I toss over my shoulder.
Adrian mutters something too low for me to hear. “No, but I’ve heard Saltain is much nicer and—”
“Then we go to Lyland.” I gesture to the path before us.
Even if we can’t stay for more than a night, I still need to see it. Need to know if it really has an abundance of citrus trees like the one in his yard.
For Linnick, we go to Lyland.