Chapter 19
Nyx
The church bells ring softly through the valley.
I stand at the front of the crowd, dressed all in black, my teeth clenched so tightly together that it hurts. Beside me, Lyra's hand trembles in mine. Ahead of us sit two polished wooden coffins. Mother. Father.
The priest drones on about the gods, about fate, about returning to the earth.
Around us, people cry quietly. Farmers from our lands.
Servants. Neighbors. People who loved my parents.
I don't cry. I can't. Lyra is crying enough for both of us.
Hilda keeps pressing a handkerchief to her face.
Ivor stands with his shoulders bowed, looking older than I've ever seen him. If I fall apart too, who will be left?
So I stand straight. I keep my chin up. I thank people when they offer condolences. I accept embraces. I nod when I'm expected to nod. By the time the funeral ends, my face hurts from holding it together.
"Nyx?" Lyra asks quietly as the crowd begins to disperse.
I squeeze her hand and force a smile. "I'm alright."
It's a lie.
The first of many.
I walk everyone back toward the manor. I wait until Lyra disappears inside. Until Hilda follows after her. Until Ivor pauses in the doorway, glancing back as though he knows something is wrong, before finally going in himself.
Then I turn around and leave.
The woods welcome me in silence.
The moment the manor disappears from sight, the last of my composure shatters. I stumble to a stop beneath a massive oak tree and sink to my knees. The sob tears out of me so violently it hurts. Suddenly I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't imagine how I'm supposed to survive this.
I don't know how to run an estate. I don't know how to raise Lyra. I don't know how to become the person everyone suddenly expects me to be.
The grief comes in waves, each one larger than the last. I wrap my arms around myself and cry until my chest aches and my throat burns.
Then warm arms settle around me. Strong arms. Steady arms. When I look up, it's Thorian.
And I’m not a girl any longer. I’m me, except I’m right back in that time and moment, feeling small and broken.
He sits behind me on the forest floor and pulls me back against his chest as though I weigh nothing at all.
One hand slides into my hair while the other wraps around my waist, holding me together when I no longer seem capable of doing it myself.
"It's alright," he murmurs.
Nothing is alright. My parents are dead. Lyra needs me. The world is cruel and unfair and I am completely alone.
Yet somehow, wrapped in his arms, I almost believe him.
The tension slowly leaves my body. My tears don't stop, but they become quieter. Less desperate. I lean into him shamelessly, taking everything he's offering. The warmth. The comfort. The certainty that, for just a little while, someone else is carrying part of the burden.
Then another pair of arms wraps around us. I glance behind me and find Fenric there, looking concerned. He settles beside me, his body warm against mine, one arm draped across my shoulders while Thorian remains in front of me. Suddenly I'm surrounded from every side. Protected. Held. Safe.
Neither man asks anything of me. Neither expects me to be strong. Neither tells me I need to carry the weight of the world.
It feels good. Right.
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. Thorian brushes them away with his thumb. Fenric presses a kiss to my temple and smiles at me with such warmth that my chest aches.
"We've got you," he says softly.
They’re such simple words. They unravel the walls I've spent so long building.
I turn toward Thorian first. His hand slides beneath my chin, tilting my face upward.
The kiss he gives me is slow and gentle, full of a tenderness I've spent years secretly wishing for.
When he pulls away, I feel warm all the way through, as though some hollow place inside me has finally been filled.
Then Fenric is there too, smiling at me with those kind green eyes. His lips brush mine in a kiss, sweet and affectionate, and it feels so natural. So easy. As though being loved is the simplest thing in the world.
Their arms remain around me. Their warmth surrounds me. And for the first time since standing beside two coffins and pretending to be brave, the crushing loneliness begins to fade.
I don't have to do this alone. I don't have to save Lyra alone. I don't have to hurt alone. The thought… feels right. Like this was always where I was going to end up.
Which can’t be true. Can it?
The church bells ring softly through the valley.
At first, I barely notice them. They're the same bells from the funeral. The same mournful tolling that echoed across our lands while my parents were lowered into the ground. I simply sit there between Thorian and Fenric, wrapped in their warmth, listening to the sound drift through the trees.
Then something changes.
The bells begin to sound different. Brighter. Lighter. The grief drains from them little by little until the mournful tolling becomes a song of celebration.
A celebration.
A wedding.
I blink, and the world shifts around me.
The forest disappears. The massive oak tree vanishes.
The funeral, the tears, the aching grief that has sat inside my chest for years all melt away like mist beneath sunlight.
Suddenly, I'm standing instead of sitting.
Golden light pours through stained glass windows, splashing the floor in brilliant colors.
My heart stutters. I know this place. A church. Another blink, and I realize the bells are still ringing. Only, they’re wedding bells.
The realization settles over me slowly. I look down and discover that my black mourning dress is gone. In its place is a gown of creamy ivory silk. Tiny pearls shimmer along the bodice. Lace trails over my wrists. When I lift a hand to touch my hair, I find flowers woven through it.
A wedding dress.
My pulse begins to race.
The church is full. Every pew is occupied. Faces turn toward me, smiling. Some of them I know immediately. Hilda sits in the front row with tears shining in her eyes. Lyra beams at me from beside her. Ivor stands nearby, looking proud.
Then my breath catches. My parents are there. Alive. Whole. Happy.
Mother's arm is linked through Father's. They're smiling at me as though this is exactly where they're supposed to be. As though they never died. As though I never stood beside their coffins and watched them lowered into the ground.
For one impossible moment, I almost run to them. Then I realize I'm standing at the front of the church. And I'm not alone. Three men stand beside me. Talon. Fenric. Thorian.
The sight should feel strange. Me getting married? Being in love?
Instead, it feels strangely natural.
Talon stands to my left, dressed entirely in black. His blue eyes never leave me. There's amusement in his expression, but something deeper too. Something possessive and knowing that makes warmth creep beneath my skin.
Fenric stands on my right. He looks exactly as he always does when he smiles at me, warm, open and kind. The look in his eyes is filled with affection so genuine that my chest aches. He appears almost overwhelmed, as though he can't quite believe he's standing here.
And behind me stands Thorian. He’s close enough that I can feel his presence without even looking at him. He radiates the sort of certainty I've spent my entire adult life craving.
My pulse pounds harder. The bells continue ringing. Nobody seems confused. Nobody seems surprised.
Not even me.
The three of them are looking at me as though they're waiting for something. Waiting for me to make a choice. Or perhaps waiting for me to realize there isn't one.
For a brief moment, I have the strange certainty that if I reached out my hand, all three of them would take it.
The thought should terrify me.
Instead, it fills me with a sense of peace so profound that tears sting my eyes.
For years, I've carried everything alone. My parents' deaths. The estate. Lyra. The endless responsibility of being the strong one. The capable one. The person everyone else could depend on.
But standing here, surrounded by warmth and affection and impossible devotion, that burden finally begins to lift. I don't feel alone. I don't feel afraid. I don't feel responsible for holding up the entire world.
I feel loved. Protected. Chosen. The feeling is so overwhelming that my chest aches with it.
Then the church bells ring again. Louder this time. The sound crashes through the dream like a hammer striking glass. Cracks spread through the sunlight. The stained glass windows fracture. The church begins to dissolve around me. Faces blur. Colors smear together.
My parents disappear first. Then the church. Then the men.
The bells ring one final time.
When I wake up, it’s with a gasp loud enough to startle the two bodies next to me. Thorian, who’s spooning me, jerks and reaches for his sword, and in front, Fenric jerks, turning and throwing his arm over my body, his sleepy eyes blinking up at the dim light above us.
“What is it?” Fenric asks, his voice rough with sleep.
“Nothing,” I breathe, wondering at what point during the night he and Thorian ended up wrapped around me. Now, the three of us are all on the single bedroll. Perhaps their bodies were just naturally seeking out comfort, heat. “Just a…dream.”
I realize, slowly, that Thorian has his arm stretched out beneath me, and I’ve been using it as a pillow. Fenric, who seems to realize how close we are, jerks again, sitting up, his face flushing.
Without meaning to, I laugh. “Well, that’s one way to stay warm at night.”
“Ha,” Thorian says, and I feel the rumble of the word in his chest, the breath of it against my ear. It reminds me of the dream. Of the men standing at the front of the room, waiting for me to join them and become their wife.
“We should get up,” Fenric says, clearing his throat, already getting to his feet, that blush still present on his face. “I’ll see if I can find us something for breakfast.”