The Morning After
TALIA
Holloway Sennett never got over his brother’s death. It was as simple as that.
The night fell apart quickly after Dawn and Riven showed up.
Lore had excused himself and hadn’t returned, which was smart because Riven seemed ready to throttle him.
No one was hungry after watching all that food rot in front of their eyes, so they each claimed a dusty bedroom and did their best to sleep.
Talia had risen early to get some fresh air, walking through the empty, eerily perfect streets. She couldn’t help but wonder where all the bodies ended up after the city was destroyed. Had they been buried? Or were the bones still here, just below the surface of the illusion?
At least the air outside tasted clean. She walked for an hour and watched the sun rise over the eastern wall.
She was on her way back to her rooms when she paused in a courtyard just outside the citadel. Morning dew clung to the pale vines that crept up through the cracked patio. The illusion couldn’t stop weeds from reaching for the sun.
She hadn’t been looking for Holloway, but she wasn’t surprised to find him here. He sat on the rim of a fountain, harp in his lap, plucking a few tentative notes. The melody faltered, then drifted away. His curls were damp, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
“You sound terrible,” she said.
He looked up. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Good morning to you too.”
She sat beside him. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep. Weird dreams.”
The fountain’s gurgle filled the space between them as Talia tried to organize her thoughts. They kept slipping sideways as she reflected on last night and what they’d almost done.
“I’m so sorry, Holloway,” she said at last. She twisted the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. “I knew how you felt, and I shouldn’t have let things—”
He cut her off. “You always blame yourself. Don’t do that. You don’t owe me an apology for last night.”
Her chest felt tight. She kept her focus on her feet, noting how scuffed her boots were. “That wasn’t real, Holloway. It was cruel to lead you on—”
“It was an illusion,” he supplied. “You didn’t choose to get enchanted, so don’t take that on.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said, shaking her head. “No offense.”
“Oh, I’m sure Lore promised you something irresistible.” Holloway’s voice was knowing and just a little wistful.
You don’t have to pretend with me, Lore had said back in the library. You can’t hurt anyone…
She felt Holloway’s eyes on her, measuring her reaction, and she finally looked back up. The firstlight caught in his lashes, turning them gold. He’d always been beautiful in an easy, obvious way. Like the sun reflected on water.
“Do you still think about Merit and Cordon?” he asked.
Something squeezed in her chest. “Most of the time.”
He hesitated, then said quietly, “I didn’t tell you. I found out what happened.”
Talia’s heart stopped. He couldn’t know what she’d done. How would he know that?
He took a long breath. “In Haven, before I got arrested, I found some records.”
Goose bumps ran up her arms, and her fingers curled around the lip of the fountain, gripping the cold stone.
“He didn’t kill himself. It was an execution. He was working with the rebels, and the Pentarchy found out.”
The world tilted around her. Her grandmother was on the Council of Five, which ran the Pentarchy. So was Holloway’s father. That was—well, that was horrific. But if Cordon hadn’t taken his own life, then it had nothing to do with Merit.
“I always thought it was my fault.”
He blinked. “What are you talking about?”
She swallowed the tears burning in her throat. “I told Marionette that Merit and Cordon were…together. I didn’t know what she’d do. I thought—” The words stuck in her throat. “I thought she’d just scold them. But she sent Merit away. And then Cordon was gone too.”
Holloway moved to kneel in front of her, hands braced on the fountain’s rim on either side of her knees. “Tally. You were sixteen. Your grandmother, my father, they did something that monsters do. You did nothing wrong.”
She pressed her fingers to her eyes, the shame old and fresh all at once. “I wasn’t thinking properly. I never should have told on them.”
Holloway’s voice softened. “He’d forgive you if he could. So would Merit.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I do.”
Her breath hitched. “You’re a good person, Holloway.”
He made a small skeptical noise in his throat. Then he let out a long sigh.
“How do we go back?” he asked in a broken voice. “Once you see what the world really is. What it’s built on.”
His hands were touching her knees, and the grief coursing through him felt so intense, it was hard for her to breathe. She didn’t know what she could say.
“The people we’re supposed to go home to—” He stopped and shook his head. “They gave the order. And we’re supposed to just, what? Accept that’s the price of peace?”
He’d lost everything since he came to Valta, she realized: his career as an enforcer, his gods. Now, faith in his family. Holloway had always been her safe space, but who was that for him? He was adrift, and she didn’t know how to pull him back.
An uneasy feeling twisted in her stomach. “What did Lore promise you, Holloway?”
“Everything.” His smile was sad. “A new world. Your family’s power and mine. Justice for Cordon. No more lies.” He stood, brushing dust from his hands, something raw in his expression. “He said we could build something better together.”
It sounded almost like a confession.
“That tempts you,” she said quietly.
His beautiful blue eyes were full of tears. “Wouldn’t it tempt anyone?”
Of course, she wanted to say. She obviously knew how tempting Lore could be, how brilliantly he latched onto people’s desires and fears. She’d assumed—vainly—that she was the sole object of his attentions. How long had he been working on Holloway?
“I used to dream about saving you, you know,” he said. “From the world, from your grandmother. But you don’t need saving.”
“I do need you, Holloway. Please.” This was sounding too much like a goodbye.
He smiled faintly, and she knew it was too late. “Just promise you’ll stop blaming yourself for something that happened when you were sixteen. You’re allowed to live, Tally.”
He stood then and walked away, toward the citadel. He didn’t even look back.
She sat alone for a while watching the light change on the water.
Sorting her thoughts. Cordon’s execution.
Holloway’s despair. Her own choices. The fountain’s steady rhythm was comforting.
Her legs had gone stiff when she finally stood up.
She noticed Riven leaning on the colonnade, hands tucked behind his back.
He must have been waiting, giving her space.
She crossed to him. “If you’ve come to tell me how naive I am—”
“I haven’t. I came with my own apology, actually.”
She blinked. “For what?”
“You were alone last night, in that room. I should never have left you.”
“You came when I called—”
“I shouldn’t have left.” He stepped closer. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re angry,” she said. She was getting better at reading his face, the set of his shoulders. Was this how normal people tracked emotions? It felt so messy and primed for misunderstanding.
“Only at him.” His jaw locked. “He made you believe you were safe. If I had been in that room—” He cut himself off. Exhaled slowly. “You would have been safe. Whatever else you wanted to do.”
It wasn’t the physical act he was angry about; it was her autonomy. Every time, that was his line.
“Never let anyone take your choices from you, Talia.”
“It won’t happen again,” she said. “I know what he wants now, and it’s off the table.” She reached for his hand. He took it immediately, threading their fingers together. “How can I convince you to trust me again?”
He made a small noise that she realized was a laugh. He was amused. “I trust you completely. My place is to guard your life, not your decisions.”
“Even if my decisions don’t lead to you? You’d still protect me?” He didn’t look like he was lying. A soft, affectionate smile broke over his face.
“Especially then.” He didn’t hesitate.
She brushed her fingers along his wrist. “Okay, so what if they do? Lead to you.”
He was staring at her. “I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.”
Talia looked toward the citadel’s glowing white spires and drew herself up. “In that case, let’s get this over with.”
Riven inclined his head. “Lead the way.”