Chapter 20
Talvie
There’s nothing like a brush with the man who tried to kill you to bring reality crashing down. Things had been feeling too warm, too comfortable. I should have known it was all too good to last.
The cottage is cozy, the kids are a barrel of laughs, and being with Lark every day is like nothing I’ve ever experienced.
I haven’t burned, dropped, spilled, or broken anything in several days.
Daria seems almost pleased. Aside from help with Tahto, the mule, I’ve barely had to run to Lark for advice.
Even Lumi hasn’t sounded disappointed lately, even seeming proud as she guided me back to the cottage after my tavern shift last night.
Everything had begun to feel like a dream I could relax into. I want to go back to it.
After seeing Beron and his huntsmen at the market, I can’t wait to get out of the bitter wind and into the warm safety of the cottage. I haven’t stopped shivering since we loaded the delivery and hustled away from the market.
The warm air flowing out the door is a welcome relief on my icy fingers. I’m ready to savour the fireplace, food, maybe even one of Helkki’s riddles—
Screaming.
Not the usual sound of playful cottage chaos. This is full-volume, high-pitched, hair-raising fear.
Lark is gone at a dead sprint before I can even shove through the door. I slam it behind me and race after him, sliding to a stop at the sight in the living area.
Bedlam.
Johannes is standing on the desk in the corner, his hands pressed to the wall like it might absorb him.
In front of him, Mikael stands guard like a shield, his eyes tracking a blur between bodies.
Katja and Juani are in full-chase, both racing after the low shape while Helkki bounces on the couch, shrieking out what sounds like battle commentary.
“A quick pivot…and it’s headed for high ground. Here’s Juho with a feral tackle and… NO! It’s still loose. There goes Kat for the interception—AND SHE’S DOWN!”
Blood drains from my face when I get a clear view of the source of the chaos. A figure bursts past at the height of my knees. Spindly limbs flail. Needle-sharp teeth are bared by a screech that could shatter glass.
Gremlin.
The thing is infinitely creepier in real life than the pictures I’ve seen in books. The way the stick-arms wave and grab… My neck shivers.
It moves in frantic bursts, darting between children, knocking over books, tearing open a cushion. It whips across the room with the energy of a rabbit hopped up on speedwort.
“Look at that evasive tactic. Retreat, I say! RETREAT!” cries Helkki, bouncing higher.
Bits of stuffing rain down like confetti in the gremlin’s wake.
My feet freeze to the floor, but Lark is moving. Taking control.
“Helkki,” he commands, “get down and help.”
She stops bouncing and lands in an ungraceful sprawl. “It’s not hurting any—”
“Now,” Lark snaps. “You know what happens if Joha gets bitten.”
The gremlin launches off a chair, soaring over Katja’s head just as Johannes—still frozen on the desk—lets out a tiny, terrified sneeze.
The gremlin’s head snaps toward him.
It moves like lightning. Scrabbling. Clawing. Jumping.
Lark moves faster.
Before I can cry out, he snatches the creature mid-air, pinning its wiry arms.
“It wasn’t going to bite anyone!” Helkki protests.
And then the gremlin sinks its teeth into Lark’s hand.
His grip falters, but he doesn’t drop it. Jaw tight, he exhales through his nose and says, “Outside. Now.” The room is still buzzing as he turns to the others. “Where are Aili and Eevi?”
There’s a creak from the wall cabinet, and a small voice asks, “Is it gone?”
Lark mutters under his breath, then heads outside with Helkki, the wriggling gremlin still in his grasp. Blood drips from his hand.
The rest of us are still, no one daring to move. Then, as if some unspoken signal passes between them all, the kids exhale and lurch into action.
Johannes sinks down the wall, wheezing as he slumps to sit on the desk.
Katja is by his side immediately, helping him steady his breathing while Juani hovers.
There’s a shimmer of dust where Kat’s hand dances over Johannes’s chest, and the boy’s breathing improves to steady gasps.
I’ve seen pixie dust at work, but never directly from the source.
For a moment, I just watch, until Lumi gives me a nudge.
They’re scared, snowdrop. You can help.
I stumble into motion. “Katja, is he okay? You didn’t get bitten, did you, Johannes?”
His head gives a meek shake, and Kat meets my eye. “Sometimes he can’t breathe well, but I can help him. Don’t worry.”
Me, worry? I should be the one reassuring them. Instead of worrying about being hurt myself, I should have thought about the fact that gremlin bites are toxic to humans. Lark threw himself in harm’s way while I did nothing.
You’re here now, Valkie, Lumi reminds me gently.
Ever practical, Mikael starts picking up the scattered books, and I join him in tidying.
Wordlessly, he shoves books into my hands and stacks the rest. We work together to scoop up the spilled pillow stuffing and set the table upright.
When Aili emerges from the cupboard with Eevi, I take the toddler while Mika helps Aili pick up strewn drawings and colored pens.
None of us speak aside from Katja’s whispered coaxing for Joha to breathe, but there’s no awkwardness. There’s a natural rhythm in the flow of movement. Like they’ve all done this a hundred times before, each of them falling into place, knowing their roles. And me…in the middle.
As I carry the lampshade over for Mikael to reattach, I ask the question weighing on my mind. “What will he do?”
The young man’s brow furrows.
“Lark,” I clarify. Lark, who had the presence of mind to take control of the situation in an instant. Who didn’t yell, didn’t panic, just acted. Who protected the most vulnerable one of them, without a thought for himself. “What will he do with Helkki?”
“Do?” Mikael’s frown deepens.
I nod. I know what would happen at the palace to anyone who let a gremlin in, but I can’t help feeling worried for Helkki despite her role in this mess. “I know she did a bad thing, but he won’t hurt her, will he?”
Mikael rears back at the suggestion. A glance at the others shows me shocked faces all around.
“That’s not Lark,” Mika assures me.
Katja pats my arm. “He would never harm anyone. Helkki had to go with him because she’s the one who knows where she found the gremlin.
They have to get it close enough to its home that it won’t just come back here looking for warmth and food.
Hellion doesn’t think things through, but Lark will talk to her.
The guilt over realizing what could have happened to Joha will be plenty of punishment. ”
Disbelief wars with relief inside of me. Because of course Lark would know just how to handle it. Without screaming. Without harm. Without making the child feel any worse than she already will.
The warmth I’d been looking forward to when we first stepped inside is different now.
Not the heat of the fire or the comfort of safety from the huntsmen—though all of those are true. But the warmth of a home that works together.
It’s nearly enough to push my earlier panic from my mind.
Nearly.
That night, long after the chaos has settled, I lie awake beside Lark, listening to his steady breaths and the wind howling outside the window. Snow will have piled into drifts by morning.
In the middle of the bed, Hugo snuffles softly amidst the covers. Lumi’s moonstone rests with solid warmth against my clavicle.
I haven’t said a word since we got into bed. I can’t stop thinking. My thoughts bounce between the gremlin and my fears about Beron, settling on the latter.
Is he close to finding me?
What led him to Ylvara?
Why did he approach Lark?
My fingers tangle in the blanket while I will the tension to leave my body. It won't budge. Not after that run-in. Not after the gremlin and the fear for Johannes.
Lark shifts beside me, as if waiting for the question trying to claw its way out of me.
“Who was that man you spoke to?” I finally ask, as if I don’t know exactly who Beron is. My heart races and fears spiral as the words tumble out.
Lark knows who I am. Lark turned me in. Lark is working with Beron.
All impossible otherwise I’d already be caught in a gilded cage. Or missing my head.
Lark is quiet. Then, gently, he admits, “The Head Huntsman.”
My heart stutters. “Oh.”
I wasn’t sure he’d tell me the truth. I’m not sure what I’m more afraid of—what Beron might do if he finds me, or what Lark might do if he learns who I am.
“You seemed…shaken by him.” Lark’s voice is quiet. Careful.
I glance at him, but his eyes are on Hugo, who shuffles over the edge of the bed and drops to the floor. With a wild sort of longing, I suddenly wish I could tell Lark the truth. I want to share this burden, tell him everything, let him understand my fears.
My voice comes out small. “He was intense.”
“That’s one word for him.” Lark sighs.
I nod, but my mind won’t stop spinning. The tension’s curled so tightly in my chest I’m not sure if it’s panic or guilt anymore.
Even if there was any chance in the Deep that Lark wouldn’t hate me if he knew my true identity, I can’t make him choose between turning me in or hiding me. It wouldn’t be fair.
“Why did he talk to you?”
“We’ve, uh…met before.” Lark hesitates. “He questioned me about Princess Talvie and shared a warning.”
An icy chill snakes up my spine. I try to keep panic off my face, because Lark is watching me all too carefully. “What kind of warning?”
“That the queen is coming to the Trade Light festival in a fortnight.”
It's a punch that drives the breath out of me. “She’s coming here?”
This can’t be coincidence.
She’s done waiting. She’s lost patience with the huntsmen and started searching for me herself. Beron has never taken this long to find his mark before. It must be driving Taynia insane. She won’t rest until she gets what she wants, which happens to be my head on a pike.
I drag the blanket to my chin. My pulse won’t slow. Ice glistens at my fingertips, my magic building with fear.
Lark props himself up on one elbow. “Val. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not,” I snap. Then soften. “It’s really… really not.”
“Hey.” He shifts closer. So calm. “You’re safe here.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me.”
I bite my lip.
I want to. Storms, I want to. I want to tell him everything. About me. About Lumi and her magic. About my stepmother. About Beron’s orders, and the danger I’ve dragged this family into.
But after what I’ve seen in the Wild territories—the desperation, the oppression, the shuttered businesses, and the hardships Lark and the kids face—how could I ever expect kindness from someone whose whole life has been shaped by the failings of my crown?
He’ll hate me.
And after this horrid, stressful day, I can’t stomach that. Anything but that.
But even if I can’t tell him the whole truth, maybe I can tell him some of it?
“I’m not… exactly who I said I was,” I whisper. Even this small confession feels like a noose tightening around my lungs.
He doesn’t press. Just listens.
“My family is, um, well-off. We’ve been to the capital.” My mouth is dry. “We stayed at the palace. I’ve met the queen. And her family.”
A flicker of something crosses his face. Sympathy? Understanding?
I push on. “Something happened, and I ran away.”
“From your family?”
I nod.
He doesn’t look shocked. Or angry that I lied. He just looks like Lark. Open, gentle, and so beautiful I suddenly want to cry.
“You’re hiding from them,” he breathes.
I pause. Another nod.
He considers, then asks, “Do you want to go back?”
“I can’t. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to return. Truthfully, I’m not sure I want to. They’re not who I thought they were.”
A beat passes. Then Lark lifts the blanket to open his arms in invitation. “Will you come over here?”
My heart thumps. “Why?”
“Why do you think, my ridiculous fiancée?” His grin comes with dimples.
I blink. “You want to practice kissing again now?”
A low chuckle. “I wouldn’t say no, but that wasn’t what I meant. You’re trembling so much, Hugo left the bed feeling seasick.”
A grunt from the floor sounds like confirmation.
“I’m sorry. I’ll stop shaking.”
“Also not what I meant, Val. Your emotions are not a problem to be fixed. You look like you need a hug, that’s all.”
I hesitate. But storms, does a hug ever sound wonderful right now.
I slide over, sinking into the warmth of his arms. They wrap me up, a perfect wreath of weighted comfort. With my head on the soft fuzz on his chest, and his hand tracing slow circles on my back, something inside of me crumples.
A whimper of relief escapes my lips. “Why is this so good?”
His soft laugh rumbles against my cheek. “Maybe because you’re the most touch-starved fae I’ve ever met.”
I don’t argue. I just press in closer, letting the panic settle. Letting Lark ease the fear from my limbs, one slow breath at a time.
“I’d be happy to help you fix that,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my hair, “if you’ll let me.”
I shouldn’t.
I shouldn’t let him get close. I shouldn’t drop my guard. I shouldn’t let my heart yearn for something impossible.
But I think I might.