Chapter 43
Forty-Three
Turcicus
My nose is assaulted by the tangy, rich scent of lemons, limes, tangerines, and more fruits I’ve never seen or smelled before. The moment the fresh aroma wraps around me, I think of Linnick.
I see his smile in the wrinkled faces we pass—his laugh carrying on the gentle wind that breezes through the town. It’s impossible not to think of him—not to think of how he and I planned to run away back before I lost him. Before everything changed.
But instead of feeling sad here, in the place Linnick planned to bring me, I feel…warm. Content.
Citrus trees grow in abundance here. Half of the businesses boast some sort of lemon, orange, lime, or grapefruit theme. The inn we choose is even named The Lemon Seed. Yet another thing to bring my mind back to Linnick.
Everything here is cozy and inviting. Shops have their doors propped open, and laughter spills from the inside of bars along with upbeat music. It doesn’t feel like the Crea I was born in. It feels…free.
We sit around a small fire that evening, Graylen and I on one side while Adrian sits across from us. Someone strums a stringed instrument lazily a few paces away. Frost clings to the trees around us, the cloudless night sky bringing a deep chill with each passing hour.
The Lemon Seed inn tucked away from the town’s center. We found boarding for the horses less than a few hundred paces away, the barn beside a massive lemon tree.
Linnick was right.
Lyland feels different.
A little girl runs past me, long ribbons tied in her hair streaming in the wind as she runs. Two middle-aged women run behind her, laughing as they ask her to slow down and wait for them.
At this moment, I know I can’t let these people down. It isn’t just Penyth I’m fighting for; it’s Crea, too.
It makes me see why Linnick loved this town so much.
It isn’t the kind of place that’s breathtaking the moment you lay eyes on it. It’s the type of beauty that sneaks up on you—one that’s right beneath your nose and you don’t realize you’re in love with it until it’s time to leave it behind.
Reminds me of someone else I know.
A smile tugs at my lips, and I glance at Graylen, his gaze distantly lost in the fire.
While he was trapped in the Vale, I could picture his face so clearly each time I closed my eyes. But nothing compares to seeing him before me. His sharp jawline, the near-constant lazy smirk on his lips that I don’t think he’s even aware of, the thick column of his throat…
My mouth runs dry, heat stirring in my chest. Even without trying, he’s the most breathtaking creature I’ve ever seen.
As if feeling my eyes on him, he looks over at me, face alarmingly open—emotions unusually on display. His brows are drawn together, a short vertical line forming in the middle of them.
“You’re staring,” he murmurs into my thoughts. “Thought that was my job?”
An exasperated laugh slips from my mouth, and I shake my head. There’s still a dullness in his gaze, even now, but I play along. Being here has brought a lightness to him, too.
“We may need to find you a new job, seeing as that fire has held most of your attention tonight,” I tease.
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps my hands are in need of something to do.”
My chest tightens at the playful words, an achingly familiar territory for us to be in—one I didn’t realize I missed so much until now.
“I can think of a thing or two,” I whisper, my cheeks heating as an unfamiliar wave of shyness envelops me.
His brows smooth out, the tension in them releasing as we stare at each other. Slowly, he reaches for my hand, sliding his palm against mine and intertwining our fingers so carefully that my heart nearly breaks at his gentleness.
I can see how hard he’s fighting to stay present—to stay here in this moment with me.
But as quickly as he began to relax, his face changes and he slips further away from me again.
Something flashes across his eyes—something akin to pain—and his expression shifts back into a calm mask of unreadable composure.
Graylen clears his throat. He gives my fingers a quick squeeze before releasing my hand, then looks back to the flames, busying the hand that was just within mine with a stick to prod at the firewood.
“We should discuss a plan for the castle,” he says into my mind, sounding every bit of the trained Aegis that he is.
My gaze lingers on him, unable to get the look of pain in his eyes out of my head. We’ve hardly talked about what happened, and each time I feel him slipping away, my instinct is to let him.
I try to fight the unwelcoming thoughts stabbing at my mind, reminding me that if I were someone else—someone softer and gentler—maybe he wouldn’t push me away.
Or maybe he can’t count on me with my magic slowly draining.
Graylen needs steadiness right now, and I’m one wrong move from being powerless again.
Graylen has always been the one to push me, to sift through my layers of defenses until he had so thoroughly pushed past them that I had no choice but to be real. To be me. He never let me hide from him, even when I wanted to.
But he can’t save me from this. Only finding Nightfall can.
I take a deep breath and push gently back into his mind. “Graylen—”
“Please.” His words quickly invade my thoughts before I can say any more. “Not yet.”
I swallow and look away from him. “Okay.” I draw my knees to my chest, resting my chin on the tops of them. “Not yet.”
He nods absentmindedly, still prodding the fire.
If he isn’t ready to talk, I won’t push him. Not yet. Not until he’s ready.
“We need to prepare for what state the castle may be in,” I start, shifting the subject.
Graylen visibly exhales, his chest deflating at the change in topic. “The last reports were of the rebels taking over and the shadows running rampant,” he muses. “If Moros is raising another army of Furies, then we need an exit plan. We can’t fight them all.”
I nod. “We’ll need an exit plan anyways. After I get Nightfall.”
Graylen cuts his eyes at me briefly before returning them to the fire. His jaw flexes as he says, “Do not forget you’re still the most important thing here.”
“To you?” I tease lightly.
“To the entire realm, Lunaria,” he says evenly. “Not just to me, but to our people. To the Creans. Having the dagger without the person to wield it will mean nothing. We can’t lose you.” His jaw flexes. “I can’t lose you.”
Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back. “Right, well, we have to convince Moros you’re human, and that I chose to come back.” My eyes flicker to Adrian, who’s lost in watching the musician to our right, his head bobbing to the light beat. “And we’re going to have to get Adrian on board to do it.”
Graylen stiffens beside me. “You think we can trust him that much?” he asks warily.
I shake my head. Of course I don’t trust Adrian. Not with everything, at least.
“No, but do we have any other choice?” I sigh. “He’ll either agree to it or he won’t. Only one way to find out.”
Graylen is quiet for a minute as he considers. One thing I know about Adrian is that if he promises something, he’ll do it. I may not trust him fully, but I know him well enough that if he does agree to back the story we craft, then he’ll follow through with it.
But him being convincing enough to pull off the lie is a different story.
“Then we tell Adrian only what he needs to know,” Graylen says.
Watching Adrian across the fire, we form a plan through our thoughts. The tricky point in this ruse is guessing what Reichardt told Moros and what he kept for his own scheming, so we have to account for him being aware of everything, just in case.
“So, what do we know Moros knows?” Graylen asks. “Let’s start there.”
I consider it, unweaving the sticky web of everything Moros was involved with since the moment I met him.
“He had to have some idea of how I felt about Reichardt; anyone with eyes could see how much I hated him. Moros has been around long enough that I don’t think he would accept any other alternative.”
Graylen pokes at the fire, embers crackling into the crisp air. “Then we tell him the truth. That you killed him out of self-defense, but you aren’t grieving his loss,” he says, and I nod in agreement. “What else?”
“He knows I tried to get Opal to come with me, so we can’t spin it as me being taken.
” This one isn’t easy—everything that involves Opal is where the line begins to blur.
“And in the trial when I heard Opal’s screams, his threats were clear about her being in danger.
” I shiver, anticipation coursing through me as her pained cries echo in my memory.
“So, me pretending to be friendly with him is out the window.”
We continue plotting, creating a believable enough story that Moros might agree to let us stay in the castle. Sneaking in without him knowing would be next to impossible with his connection to dark magic, so we’re left with praying the Divine give us a little boost to pull this off.
“The best time to search for the dagger is at night,” I press on. “While everyone is—hopefully—asleep.”
“And if someone catches one of us out?” Graylen questions.
I chew on my lip, pulling at the skin until a metallic tang hits my tongue. “Then we find a cover convincing enough that they don’t tell anyone.”
“Or we pay them,” he muses. “Everyone has a price.”
We talk through the rest of our plan until we’re left with one final piece.
Adrian shakes his head and says, “He has no choice but to listen to me.”
I blow out a long breath. The abridged version of the plan was hardly out of my mouth before he started to disagree.
Adrian paces my and Graylen’s room, his head shaking as he mutters to himself in the silence of the cozy space.
“I’m the king,” he mumbles. “We don’t need some elaborate plan to convince my uncle you can stay.
” He pauses and looks over at us to add, “If I say you’re under the crown’s protection, then no one can touch you. ”
I grit my teeth together, letting out a slow sigh as Adrian starts to pace the room again.
Adrian still has blind faith in these people—not that I can blame him. He doesn’t know any better. Doesn’t know what his uncle has done.
“And you’re so confident that he won’t go behind your back if he thinks it’s for your benefit?” I ask. “There are ways to kill someone in the castle without anyone knowing.”
Adrian’s gaze snaps to mine, hurt flashing across his face. He knows better than anyone how easily a death can be faked as an accident.
“You’re confident enough in their loyalty to risk our lives?” I push, taking a step toward him.
A beat of silence passes.
Adrian throws his hands up, surrendering. “Fine,” he huffs. “We convince my uncle you wanted to come back. What’s the plan? He’s brilliant. Lying to him won’t be easy.”
I fill in some of the details, Graylen a silent statue beside me as I give Adrian information that pertains to his part in all of this.
“And you’re certain telling him you killed your father is the right thing to do?” Adrian questions, eyes narrowed on me.
I nod slowly, my patience wearing thin.
“So you just—what? Came back now that he’s dead?” Adrian stammers, gripping the back of his neck.
“We convince him I came back with you.” I flinch as I correct myself, “For you.”
Adrian’s gaze flies to mine and then bounces between Graylen and me.
“We’re going to tell him that the plan he made with you to get me back worked.” My fists clench tighter as the words leave my mouth. “Think you can manage that for a few days?”
Something flashes across Adrian’s face, but he nods slowly.
It doesn’t exactly set me at ease, but it’ll do for now.