Chapter 24
I can’t shake the feeling that something is about to go very, very wrong. It coils in my gut, cold and cautionary.
A weight presses against my chest, not pain exactly, but something heavy and nameless, like the air just before a thunderstorm.
I reach up, fingers brushing the crown of woven blooms nestled in my hair. The petals are soft, cool, delicate…a poor match for the dread prickling along my spine.
“Stop that,” Ferria hisses, slapping my hand away, then draws me to a stop. “You’ll ruin it.”
She fusses over me, her strong fingers brisk but careful as she readjusts the celebratory headpiece, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. I let her. She needs something to do with her hands. She’s just as uneasy as I am.
Around us, the crowd flows toward the center of town for the festival. Laughter, music, and the smells of roasted meats and sweet treats float in the air. Color and life shine in every direction, smiles and excitement. All of it is lost on me.
My heart thuds a little too fast, and I fight the urge to search the crowd for a hidden monster. Not that I would know if I saw one. The natchling certainly had me fooled.
“Relax,” Ferria murmurs, eyes trailing over me from head to toe, searching for evidence of an injury that doesn’t exist. “Nothing’s going to happen today.”
“I know.” But I can’t shake this feeling gnawing at me.
She groans and grabs my hand. “What you need is a distraction.”
“What I need is time,” I mutter, so quietly she doesn’t hear me over the giggles of the young women skipping past us.
I watch them go, dresses billowing in the breeze, grinning with abandon. I was never that carefree. The life the Gods dealt me ensured that. And no matter my accomplishments, my successes, nothing changes.
My deadline to help Darius is tomorrow. The fate of Verdanthia is in my hands. Ferria knows it. And yet she insists I waste time attending a festival that shouldn’t be happening. The Elders should have canceled the event the moment Fae stepped into town.
But they don’t know about the beasts.
We pass the barracks.
“Where are the rest of the soldiers?” Ferria asks, lips turned in a frown.
I follow her gaze and take in the young men in the muddy training yard, wearing matching forest-green uniforms, their dark boots polished to a fresh shine.
A quick count has me frowning as well. “Maybe the Elders ordered extra patrols?”
I hope that’s the case. Everyone is spooked after the fire that destroyed so many homes—a fire that the Elders claim started from an overturned lantern next to a straw-filled bed. Only I, Ferria, and the Fae know the truth.
“But why?” Her frown deepens. “Do you think they know about the fire?”
“No.” My answer comes quickly.
The only reason we know the natchling used its destructive power to create the unnatural fire that would’ve burned endlessly is because of the Fae.
Jaxon shared the information with Ferria while we were sparring this morning. Well, I was sparring. Draven put me through the ringer, more motivated than usual to ensure I can protect myself. I’d almost say he cared.
But then he swiped my ankles out from underneath me, unbothered that I landed on my still-tender back, before barking at me for not paying attention.
Ferria hums, eyes assessing the soldiers.
“Are you worried?” I ask.
“I’d be a fool if I weren’t.” She shakes her head and loops her arm through mine. “But there’s nothing we can do tonight.”
There’s always something we can do, but one glance at the dark circles under my sister’s eyes makes me bite my tongue.
Maybe she needs this—a night to pretend our problems don’t exist. A night not sweating over the forge. A night not staring pointlessly at a Fae language she can’t understand to try and help me. A night to just be.
We reach the market square. Lights shine on buildings every four feet, casting the space into a bright glow reminiscent of daylight. Vibrant banners and streamers add to the celebratory atmosphere. If anyone dwells on the tragedy that occurred less than twenty-four hours ago, they don’t show it.
“There you two are.” Anton slides into view, appearing from between two young women who gaze at his backside with blatant admiration.
“Wow!” I take in his broad form, covered by a pristine white shirt opened at the neckline, exposing the column of his throat. “You look great, Anton.”
He pushes messy brown hair away from his eyes and grins, a dimple popping up on his cheek. “Thank you, Elara.”
Gods. Has Anton always been so sexy?
I glance at Ferria to gauge her reaction and immediately stifle a laugh.
My sister stares at her apprentice like she’s never seen him before. Which is fair. I’m pretty certain no one has seen Anton look like this before.
I clear my throat. “Ferria?”
She snaps her mouth closed and wipes at her chin. I choke back another laugh.
“Hello, Anton.” She averts her gaze, searching the crowd.
Her indifferent act doesn’t fool anyone.
“You look beautiful.” His eyes focus on my sister before they dart to me. “You both do.”
“Thank you,” we reply simultaneously, but only Ferria has a light blush rising on her cheeks as she runs her hands down her emerald dress.
The fitted bodice highlights her slender waist before flowing to her slippered feet, and the rich color accentuates her vibrant hair color beautifully.
“Would you like to dance?” He holds out a hand.
She freezes. Wide eyes stare at his strong, calloused palm. Her blush deepens.
“She’d love to.” I nudge the small of my sister’s back, and she steps forward.
Anton’s hand closes over hers, and his bright, charming smile makes my chest squeeze in delight.
He draws Ferria close, then leads her into the swirl of gliding couples. Her wild curls fan out as she whips her head to look back at me.
I shoot her a wink, mouthing, “Have fun!”
She scowls mockingly, but the expression melts into an uncharacteristically shy smile when Anton whispers something in her ear.
A surge of giddy warmth ripples through me.
“Why are you smiling?”
My head snaps to my right. My smile falters.
“Lev.”
“Ouch.” He closes the distance between us. “That’s not the greeting I was hoping for.”
“Sorry.” I pinch my lips together, then sigh. “I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m just…tired.”
And scared. And worried. And nervous. And every other undesirable emotion I can think of.
“Understandable, considering the week you’ve had.” He settles at my side, shoulder brushing mine, as he turns to face the dancing crowd jumping and twirling in front of us.
From the corner of my eye, I take in his forest-green uniform. The durable fabric hugs every inch of his muscular thighs, and the cut of the tunic tucked into his pants accentuates his trim waist.
“You look nice.”
He always looks nice.
“And you are stunning.” Deep brown eyes land on me, drifting over my flowered headpiece before trailing down my light-blue gown. “I’ve never seen this dress before.”
“Juniper gave it to me.” I swallow the lump in my throat and add, “It was my mother’s, apparently.”
Lev blinks, the only sign of his surprise. “I didn’t know she had anything left of your parents to give you.”
Oh, you have no idea…
“Me neither.” I look back to the crowd, afraid Lev will read the truth from my eyes.
He knows me too well.
“It fits you perfectly.”
“Yeah.” I trail my fingers over the silver floral embroidery on the bodice and down to the edge of the flowing tulle skirt. “It really does.”
“Is Ferria’s gown your mother’s as well?”
Anton spins Ferria with effortless grace.
My grin returns, warm and unguarded. “No, that’s hers.”
“And she’s actually dancing with Kinless?” His tone drips with disbelief and a little humor.
My smile falls.
He holds up his hands. “Sorry, Anton. I meant to say Anton.”
I huff and look away, letting the irritation slide off my mended back. I don’t have the energy to be angry with him tonight.
He clears his throat. “Do you want to dance?”
The shadows under my sheer sleeves twitch.
Lev extends his arm. I stare at it and all that’s between us; our past, our present, and the unknown future flash in my mind. Despite the tension simmering between us, I can’t ignore what Lev means to me.
I slip my arm through his. His shoulders relax, and a smile tugs at his lips.
The dancing couples part like I’m a plague victim and they’re afraid to breathe the same air. I keep my head high and eyes forward, though the intensity of their stares rattles me.
After all I’ve done for Verdanthia, all the people I’ve helped, it stings to realize my efforts don’t matter. My association with the Fae, even unwilling, has made me an outcast in the only place I’ve ever called home.
Lev guides me into a turn, his arm sliding around my waist, drawing me into the rhythm of the dance. I stiffen, conscious of every step, of the gap between us that shouldn’t feel so wide.
Couples glide around us, laughter spilling like wine, music lifting into the night. Joy lives here, but not between us.
“I looked for you today,” Lev says after a beat, gaze skimming past mine.
I stare at the base of his throat. “I was working at the Fae’s camp.”
“You spend a lot of time there.”
“Because I’m trying to save Verdanthia.”
“Is that all?”
My eyes snap up. “Excuse me?”
Regret flickers across his face. “I didn’t mean it like—”
“Yes, you did.” I glance over his shoulder. Ferria spins, a blur of red hair as Anton twirls her away. “You think I’m too close to the Fae.”
He doesn’t argue. Just spins me again, avoiding the truth.
“The Fae saved my life during the fire,” I blurt, voice sharp with desperation.
I need someone to understand, to see past their fear and suspicion. I need someone to give me the benefit of the doubt about my interaction with the powerful males who’ve infiltrated our town.
“And for that,” he says, “I am in their debt.”
“No.” I frown. “I am in their debt.”
Lev searches my eyes, moving with the rhythm of the dance effortlessly, as if the crowd and music exist solely for him.
Unease coils tight. “What?”
He doesn’t answer right away. He spins me in time with the music, forehead furrowed.
“I have to tell you something,” he finally says, voice nearly drowned by the boisterous music.
“What is it?”
My gaze flicks to the side. Shadows writhe unnaturally behind stalls stacked with sweet-smelling delicacies, curling and stretching like living things.
Have the Fae arrived?
“The circlet I commissioned from Ferria…” he begins.
I jerk. All thoughts of Fae and shadows are forgotten as icy dread flows through my veins.
“What about it?”
“I lied.” His jaw tenses. “It’s not just a gift. It is a betrothal token.”
The music dulls into background noise, surpassed by the pulse roaring in my ears. My stomach drops, and the world narrows with the implication of his words.
“Why—”
“Because I’m in love with you, Elara. And I can’t imagine not being with you for the rest of my life.”
My heart plummets to the earth.
Lev must feel it. He hurries to fill the silence. “But I know how you feel about marriage. I shouldn’t have commissioned a circlet without talking to you first.”
“No,” I murmur. “You shouldn’t have.”
He nods. “We don’t have to be wed. I’m content just being us... But I wanted to be honest. I wanted you to know the truth.”
“I…appreciate that.” I sound calm, but inside I’m anything but.
Lev and I never made promises about our future. It’s always been enough just to be what we are. Friends. Lovers. Companions.
That’s why General Ironheart dislikes me so much. He thinks I’m keeping his son from a family. From a better future. He doesn’t consider that the decision is as much his son’s as mine.
At least, it was his decision.
Clearly, things have changed for him. And I’m struggling to figure out how to handle that.
“There’s more,” Lev adds, voice so low I almost miss it over the cheer of a couple executing a perfect spin next to us. “Another reason why I decided to commission the circlet.”
I wait for him to continue. He doesn’t.
I frown and prompt, “Which is…?”
He pulls me closer. Our chests brush, and his lips ghost the top of my ear. “Things are changing all over the region. Food stores are running low, and merchant routes up north are blocked. People are afraid.”
I lean back, searching his face, confused. “Afraid of what? The Fae?”
His jaw tightens. His gaze flickers away.
“Lev?” I squeeze his shoulder. “What aren’t you saying?”
“There are whispers of a war coming,” he says in a rush, as if it takes everything he has to betray this confidence and reveal the words to me.
It probably does.
My heart thumps in my chest.
“A war?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “Against the Fae?”
“No.” His lips press into a hard line, and for a heartbeat indecision flickers over his resolve. Then he confesses, low and certain, “A war between humans.”