Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Ileave the pretty dress hanging in my wardrobe. Tonight calls for something else. I pull the Veritas armor from my trunk. I've only worn it twice, both times ceremonial, but tonight it feels right.
Necessary. The pleated black leather skirt sits high on my waist. The silver chest plate fits like a second skin, scalloped shoulder guards curving over my arms. I clip the round medallions into place, the Veritas symbol etched into each, and fasten the maroon cape and hood.
Finally, I secure the silver cuffs on my forearms and pull on my boots. When I catch my reflection in the mirror, I look like I'm ready for war. Good.
Malachi turns toward me when I walk out of my bedroom. His gaze travels slowly from my boots to the crown of my head, lingering in places that make heat rise to my cheeks.
"Did you enter a dueling competition I wasn't informed of?"
"No." I brush past him toward the door. "But you've just reminded me to enter you in the annual jester competition."
His low chuckle follows me out.
We take the back routes, but tonight I lead us down a path most outsiders never find.
"How are your injuries?" I ask as we walk. "Both of them."
"Better. No pain on my side or my back."
I turn to stare at him. "You're serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Because that weapon was designed to kill you. And those scars looked like they'd been hurting for centuries."
"Well." His mouth curves. "I am being treated by the finest alchemic healer in Tenebris. Possibly all of Iredell. Perhaps even—"
I bump his side with my shoulder. "Okay, I believe you!"
He chuckles. My laughter fades as we approach the live oaks that flank the narrow path. Someone has strung lights through the branches, hundreds of them, glowing soft and golden against the dark.
Neither of us speaks.
By day, these trees form a canopy of twisted trunks and trailing moss, beautiful in an ancient, overgrown way. By night, the path usually feels foreboding, shadows pooling between the roots. But tonight, bathed in this borrowed starlight, it's something else entirely.
I turn to say something, but the words dissolve before I can speak them.
Malachi walks beside me with his hands in his pockets, his stride unhurried for once.
The golden light softens the sharp edges of him, and he looks less like the terrifying warrior I've come to know and more like .
.. something else. Someone who might have existed before the curse.
Before the bargains. Before everything was taken from him.
"What is this place called?" he asks softly.
"It doesn't have an official name." I look up at the canopy above us, where the branches from opposite sides of the path reach toward each other, intertwining like fingers laced together. "The students call it Union Street. Because the trees look like they're trying to hold on to each other."
I don't know why my voice drops. "There's something almost tragically romantic about it, don't you think?"
He's quiet for a moment. "There's a word in the old tongue. Adhoranelo."
"Adhoranelo," I repeat softly. "What does it mean?"
"It doesn't translate directly." His voice is low, thoughtful. "It describes a feeling of deep longing. A soul-deep ache for someone, or somewhere." He glances at me. "The kind of ache that never fully goes away."
"That sounds unbearably sad."
"It's not meant to be." Something soft enters his expression. "The elders say the ache settles in your chest as a reminder. That somewhere in the world, there's a place you belong. Or a person you're meant to find."
"I suppose that's slightly less devastating."
The corner of his mouth curves.
"Some cultures believe it means you have a bonded mate out there, waiting." He laughs quietly when he sees my expression shift. "Would that be so terrible?"
I glance at him sideways. "I've never even considered children. You think I've spent time contemplating bonded mates?"
"Then we have that in common."
Something in my chest tightens. It's a strange, complicated feeling. Part of me wants him to say he wishes I were his true bonded mate. The other part aches for the fact that he's never allowed himself to imagine having one at all.
We emerge from the canopy into the glow of Veneficia Alley. Music drifts from somewhere ahead, lively and bright, at odds with the weight of our conversation.
"What happens if you're already with someone when you meet your bonded mate?"
"I imagine you'd have a difficult conversation ahead of you. Assuming you chose to pursue your bonded mate." He pauses. "Though I suspect the conversation would be uncomfortable either way."
"So you don't have to accept your bonded mate?"
"Of course not. Both parties have to choose. The bond only holds if both sides consent." He shoots me a pointed look. "Our current situation notwithstanding."
"What if one chooses and the other doesn't?"
"Then one of them spends the rest of their life carrying the ache alone."
"That sounds dramatic."
His lip twitches. "Perhaps. But imagine knowing the person the gods chose for you is living happily with someone else. That you could have had them, and chose not to."
"What if someone has multiple bonded mates?"
His eyes glint in the lantern light. "Not in this realm. Though I've heard it works differently elsewhere."
"Fascinating," I murmur.
"Could you handle multiple mates?"
I scoff. "If it's anything like what we have? Absolutely not." I meet his gaze. "And I wouldn't want to."
His chuckle dies abruptly. His gaze snaps to something in the alley ahead. Before I can see what caught his attention, he's pulling me off the main road and into the shadows of a side street. His grip on my arm is tight. Urgent.
"Go straight to Siren's. Tell Kage to meet me here."
"What is it? Who did you see?"
"I'll explain later." His eyes are hard. "Go. Now."
I nod and rush towards Siren’s. I find Kage laughing with a stranger in the middle of the street. The moment I relay Malachi's message, all traces of humor vanish. He heads toward the alley without a word.
I stand there, torn between following and continuing on.
The door to Siren's opens before I can decide and Naima steps out.
We both freeze when we realize we're dressed identically—the same armor, the same cape, the same silver cuffs.
For a moment, we just stare. Then we're laughing, pulling each other into a tight embrace.
“I needed this right now,” she breathes against my ear and holds me tighter when I stiffen.
“Jordi’s fine, as far as we know, but Arlo came to deliver other concerning news.
He doesn’t want all of us seen together, so he’s waiting in a private room near the stairs.
When we go inside, smile, wave, and act natural.
There are people in there we need to avoid. ”
My heart pounds as she drapes an arm over my shoulders and guides me inside. I paste on a smile and play along, waving at familiar faces, pretending nothing is wrong as she leads me to the private room. It's the performance of my life.
The room is small and dim, lit only by a single sconce. Arlo stands near the window, dressed in his new uniform —dark green with thick gold epaulettes and gleaming buttons. His blond hair is tied back, revealing his arched ears. For a long moment, neither of us moves.
I study the sharp lines of his face. The cheekbones, the jaw, those soft green eyes that haven't changed since we were children.
I don't know who moves first. One moment I'm by the door.
The next, I'm in his arms, and we're both crying into each other's shoulders like the world is ending. Maybe it is.
In this moment, I forget about his uniform, the Council, the ransacked apartment. He's just Arlo. The little blond boy with the lisp who broke my naive heart when he confessed he was in love with my brother. Who became my brother in every way that mattered.
I push away every fear, that the Council has changed him, that we've lost him, that we'll never get him back.
Instead, I hold onto the memories. The way he held my hand in the healing chambers when Jordi couldn't bear to go.
The way he always knew when I needed space, and when I needed someone to pull me out of myself.
The way he never judged me for either. I hold him tighter, trying to thank him for all of it without words.
"Gods, Temp." His voice cracks. "I wanted to see you. It's been impossible."
"I know." I pull back, wiping my face. "I saw your ... promotion."
He flinches. "You were there?"
"Yes." I manage something like a smile. "I hate your new uniform."
He laughs, the sound watery. "You hated my old one too."
My lip trembles. I pull him into one more hug before stepping back. "This must be urgent if you braved the tunnels. With all those Hupia spirits lurking."
He sputters. "I'm a champion dueler!"
"And that means you're no longer afraid of ghosts following you home?"
He rolls his eyes. "I'm a very fast runner."
That startles a real laugh out of me. His eyes warm.
"I missed you, Temp."
"I missed you too, Lo." The lightness lasts only a moment. "Have you seen Jordi?"
"No. It was difficult enough getting there before. Now it's impossible." His expression darkens. "That's why I'm here. To warn you."
My stomach drops. "Warn me about what?"
"The Council knows." His voice is low, urgent. "They know the Sages raised children in Veritas. They don't have names yet, but they're looking."
"How do they know?"
"I don't know. But I overheard Constantine and Nicolas. They've sent guards everywhere, claiming they're hunting renegades. But I think they're trying to identify us. Find out who the children were." He hesitates. "Cas was assigned to search your quarters."
The air leaves my lungs. "Cas did that?"
"He didn't have a choice. He had to make it look thorough."
"The hidden passage was exposed, Arlo. That's not thorough. That's deliberate."