Chapter Twenty-Four • The Buried City • Damien #3
I take my time parting from her neck, licking my teeth as I meet eyes with him. “Welcome back, Blunderbitch.”
He squints at me and rolls his eyes. “Listen. I just want to enjoy tea and cakes without losing my appetite.”
“And I want to make out with my girlfriend.”
“Do it in private,” he says.
“Big words from someone who picked her for very public sex with multiple onlookers,” I say.
“That was sacred, you swine,” Bastion says. “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”
“Guys, don’t fight,” Lillith says.
“Is this what you want?” Bastion asks her, pointedly. “To have a man who just helps himself to you whenever he so pleases?”
Lillith sighs, and I listen to make sure this is something she enjoys.
Her lips set into a firm line, and her brows angle downward.
“Bastion... yes. This is what I want,” she says.
“You’re really asking me if I want to have a partner who can’t keep his hands off of me?
Who lets me know all the time how much he’s into me? Yes, Bastion. I want that.”
Bastion has the good grace to look a little chastened.
He runs his hand through his burnished hair before wiping it down his face.
“I can’t fathom enjoying it,” he says, and I’m about to retort something when he continues.
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t. I’m sorry for assuming you were uncomfortable.
It’s just... so strange to see you with someone. I thought...”
Lillith’s expression softens. I don’t understand why. Bastion seems like a massive dick to me. But then Lillith says, “Bastion. I’m not giving up on anything. I’m not going away. I’m not leaving The Buried City behind.”
“But a handfasting between a Nightingale and a Bramblethorn... The power created from that union…”
Lillith heaves out a sigh, looking... guilty.
“I know you’re worried about the future of The Buried City, and how magic seems to keep waning.
But maybe this is it, Bastion,” she says, placing a hand on my chest. “Maybe we need to start pulling more mortals in and sharing the power. Maybe we need to give more people access to it, so magic can return to the world, little by little. Keeping it in a handful of families down here... I think that’s why it’s dwindling. ”
Bastion nods, and I think I see it. The thing Lillith is speaking to.
That sort of weight that rests on his shoulders.
At first blush, it seems like Bastion is some sort of magical bloodline purist—some sort of well-to-do haughty asshole who sneers at relationships like this one.
But maybe not...maybe this is someone who loves his home and sees the end of it coming on the horizon.
As if sensing my curiosity, Lillith looks at me and explains, “Our families are the ones that came up with this place,” she says.
“The Bramblethorns, The Nightingales and The Robledos all tied their magic to this place. It needs at least one of us either here or in the fabric of the in-between to remain stable, but with it, we all have a place to stay safe in case something like the witch trials ever takes place again.”
“But magic is waning?” I ask.
“Yes, and we’re not really sure where it’s going,” Bastion says, coming to sit down on one of the papasans, leaning back and crossing one leg over his knee. His sullen expression softens when he looks at us again, and his lip pulls into a tired, crooked smile. “You do look happy, Lilipad.”
She smiles and nods. “I am,” she says, and my heart just feels buoyant with love for her. I catch a glimpse of my new tattoo and feel that love all over again. I lean forward to kiss her temple and tug her back closer to me.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I say, nuzzling into her neck.
Wren appears with a tray full of tea and an array of interesting looking cakes. She sits down on the other papasan and claps her hands together as if she’s starting a meeting.
“Alright, sluts. Who’s ready to talk about ways we can get Lillith out of the little hell hole they call Del Lune?”
Bastion looks unsurprised by the question, and it occurs to me that maybe he didn’t just show up to get a look at his childhood friend’s new boyfriend.
“Very cute,” Lillith says. “Pretty sure we already established there’s nothing we can do magically to make that happen, aside from breaking the curse.”
“We thought we did,” she says. “But Bastion and I came to the realization recently that that particular line of logic makes no fucking sense. Because someone already has done it, Lillith. And it only took the tiniest bit of digging to find her.”
Lillith’s mouth drops open.
Bastion nods, his expression going almost pitying. “I felt the same way,” he says.
“What?” I ask, not keeping up.
“My mother,” Lillith whispers.
I almost don’t follow. Almost forget one of the first details I learned about her. Then I remember. Lillith’s mother bailed on her. Years ago. She left.
The remaining conclusions all follow the first one like toppling dominoes. If one Nightingale has been able to leave, why not another one?
“Holy shit,” I say.