36. Greer
Greer
I’m at Atlas’s door before daybreak because I was barely able to sleep, and it’s impossible to sit still with the journey ahead.
Thankfully, our trek across Solace is easier this early in the day without the sun beating harshly down on us. By the time my leathers get uncomfortably hot, we reach the edge of the Echme forest, and all heat dissipates.
One step between the trees and my skin prickles. A familiar current of energy floods my veins. Pure, untamed magic from the skies, unlike any other part of the realm. There is nothing that compares to Echme.
The territory is electric.
Vibrating.
It pulses in my bones. I’m home for the first time in over a century.
Atlas holds his hands out in front of him, flipping them over and feeling the air.
“It’s the lightning fields. You can feel them as far as the border,” I tell him.
“I’ve never felt magic like that.”
“There is no other magic like that.”
He relaxes his arms at his sides as we continue deeper into the forest.
While there is no safe path through the Echme forests on foot, the pathways offer a break between the trees and protection from the creatures hiding in the underbrush.
It wasn’t always like this. Long ago, villages weren’t contained to the edge of the lightning beaches; they stretched deep into the forest. It wasn’t until the storm of stars that magic in Echme became so strong that it transformed the creatures in the territory into something frightening.
From then on, Fae avoided the trees. Gates were used to travel in and out of Echme. Villages moved north, and what was left in the woods was abandoned.
“You’ve never been to Echme,” I guess, glancing at Atlas.
He walks a step ahead with his sword out, cutting through a tangle of brush in our path.
“No, I haven’t. When the court traveled to Lyrichia before the Realm War, we usually spent most of our time in Solace.
Malachi was always a pretentious prick who made being at the Ley Court unbearable.
Lochlan was a better host, so we’d only take short trips to Malachi’s palace when needed.
But I don’t remember seeing you among the Crown Guard at the time. ”
“I wasn’t.” I frown, pulling out my sword to help with a particularly rough patch of vines.
Atlas looks at me, his eyebrows pinching.
“Stop trying to read my mind.”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He grins, glancing at the blade in my hand.
I grumble, slicing through another branch. I should push forward silently like we’ve been doing. But the static in the air that was once calming has me on edge. Something is off. The current has changed since I was last here, and I need a distraction.
“Before I left Echme, my family rarely took trips to the Ley Court,” I admit.
“We would visit Tempest and Ruse Village to see my aunts, but that was the extent of our travel within the realm. My parents preferred to keep their work for the royal family separate from our home life. You wouldn’t have seen me in the Ley Court or Solace back then. ”
He hums, keeping pace beside me when we reach an empty stretch of the path.
“Did you travel your realm?” I ask.
“My realm. Others. I don’t think I’ve sat still my entire life. If I wasn’t training, I was meeting with other courts and realms. Always moving around from place to place. Always busy.”
“No wonder you’re so charming.”
“You think I’m charming?” He grins.
“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s as much an insult as a compliment.”
“A half compliment from you isn’t nothing. Next thing we know, you’ll be staring into my eyes and hoping I kiss you.”
“Try and kiss me, and you’ll find this between your lips instead.” I hold up my blade.
But Atlas chuckles, unthreatened. His fingers dig into his red hair. It’s somehow both thick and silky. Never staying in place. As wild as his purple eyes.
“Where did you get your eye color from?” I ask, frowning when he smiles wider. “And that wasn’t the start of a compliment. Call it morbid curiosity.”
After all, purple eyes are extremely rare. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that shade before meeting Atlas and his sister.
“My mother.” His smile turns slightly grim. “Hers were a shade between mine and Perame’s, or so I’ve been told.”
“You never met her?”
“She died giving birth to me and my sister. Pregnancy is difficult for the Fae, but twins…” He swallows hard.
“It’s unheard of.” I finish his sentence.
He nods, his gaze falling to the ground. I knew Atlas and Perame were siblings, but I didn’t realize they’re twins. It’s unusual for magic to split like that in the womb, even more unusual for the twins to have such opposite wielding abilities.
But it explains how Atlas’s fire wielding manifested in a way that allows him to manipulate minds. His sister is a searcher. She taps into the fates, which means he must have a flicker of a connection within them as well.
“I’m sorry you never knew her,” I offer, not sure what else to say but feeling like I understand him better now.
“My father keeps her alive through stories.” Atlas glances at me with an unreadable expression. “She was a seer—future sight.”
“My aunt has future sight,” I tell him. “A blessing and a curse.”
“In her case, I think the latter was more accurate. My father said she saw her death centuries before it happened.”
“It’s rare to see one’s own fate.” Even the most powerful seers are restricted when it comes to those they care about. It’s said the fates have ways of shielding the Fae from tampering with them, and that’s one of the ways.
“It might not be true. But she saw something.” Atlas reaches into the front of his shirt, tugging at a leather rope until the stone at the end pops free.
A winding flame is carved into the flat stone.
“My mother left this for me before she died. One for me and one for my sister. Perame’s has an eye on it, and mine is a flame. ”
“She saw your magics before you were born? That’s extraordinary, even for a seer.”
“She did.” He tucks the necklace back beneath his tunic. “She left these for us, along with a letter to my father. She said that one side would represent our hearts and the other, our happiness.”
“Fire for your heart.” I glance at where the necklace now hides beneath his shirt. “What did she carve on the other side of yours?”
Atlas’s grin widens. “So curious about me today, Greer Maliren.”
“Stop calling me by my full name.” I bristle.
“Why? Like it too much?”
“No.” Yes.
With a groan, I quicken my pace, but Atlas does the same, keeping up.
He never answers my question about the other side of his necklace, and I no longer care. Getting to know him is pointless when I have no desire to become friends. I don’t know why I bother.
My nerves are on edge with how quiet the forest is today. Not a stir of a bird or the breeze. Yet I feel something watching us.
“I was sorry to hear about your parents as well,” Atlas says, finally cutting through the silence after we’ve been walking for a while. “They were kind.”
“How did you know them?”
“They came to Vaelier often. I assumed after what happened in the Ley Court—” He pauses, shifting his weight as I slow my steps. “Wilder didn’t say anything to you?”
“What could Wilder possibly have to say about my parents?”
And why is my stomach jumping to my throat at his implication?
Atlas scratches the back of his neck, pausing on the trail. “Your parents were close with my father—with the queen. I remember them mentioning once they had a daughter, but I didn’t know who.”
I freeze in my tracks. “You met my parents before the Collision?”
“After. Like I said, they were close with—”
“No.” I shake my head, stepping back. “They couldn’t have been close with your queen or your father after the Collision. Our realms were already battling. They were only there to spy on you—on our enemies.”
He opens his mouth, pauses, and snaps it shut again. His eyes search mine like he doesn’t know what to say.
“My parents were loyal to their king. They wouldn’t have associated with Vaelier after tensions started. They weren’t traitors.”
“That’s not how it was.” Atlas shakes his head. “They understood there was more going on than just the Well. They knew Malachi was hiding things—”
“They didn’t betray their kingdom.” I cut him off. “They didn’t deserve what he did to them.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes as my voice catches.
“Greer, I didn’t say that.”
“Don’t.” I step away when Atlas reaches for me, and he holds his hands up in surrender.
“I don’t know what your parents were fighting for other than they wanted something better than what the realms were becoming. They thought we could do it differently. I’m not saying they were traitors. I’m just saying they wanted to help.”
No, what he’s saying is that they were helping the enemy. That they were colluding with Vaelier’s queen, which would have given Malachi the right to murder them. Atlas is saying my parents earned their deaths.
Anger is a living, breathing thing inside me as I storm away. Maybe I should make good on my promise to Atlas and unsheathe my sword to end this forced cooperation. But I can’t. My fingers clench, but I can’t do anything except swallow this rage.
My parents were spies for their kingdom. They shared the secrets they learned. They did what they were asked. They wouldn’t have worked with Queen Delayna.
Unless there’s more they didn’t tell me. More I’ll never know now that they’re gone.
I rub the scar that cuts through my eyebrow, and I swear it burns as hot as it did the day I got it.
What have I been fighting for?
Who have I been fighting for?
Before I can fall too deeply into that thought, a rustle in the trees comes from my right.
I barely have time to process what is happening when a creature pounces out. It’s a panther, but its fangs are so long they don’t fit in its mouth. Its cold blue eyes set on me as it rushes forward.
I never hesitate.
I am the blade on which others bleed.
And yet I fumble as I reach for my sword. As I question everything.
My feet stumble back a step, and air catches in my lungs. The panther flies toward me. And then, Atlas is between us. He drives his sword through the beast’s center, and it groans with a cry that has birds fluttering from the branches. Birds I wasn’t aware were there until they’re gone.
Atlas steadies his stance, shoving the panther forward. Its body slumps to the ground, and he tugs the sword out, leaving a puddle of crimson in the dirt.
Blood.
So much blood.
So much—
I shake my head. Death and pain and blood don’t scare me. Not anymore. I’ve seen the worst of it and survived.
Or did I?
My fingers shake at my sides as Atlas glances over his shoulder. No smile. No flirty remark. The violet flecks in his eyes spark as he scans me over, pausing when he sees my fingers quivering against the handle of my blade.
“We’ll stop here for the night,” he says, tossing his bag off and pulling out the tarp for our tent.
“I can keep going.”
“I know” is all he says, continuing to set up camp.
I’ve yet to move, frozen and speechless over my clear mistake. I’m a warrior. I’ve fought hordes in battle. I don’t get shaken, and I don’t stop. But lately, all I do is freeze. I overthink and overanalyze every decision.
Atlas doesn’t call me out for standing here. Not even as I storm into the forest to catch my breath. In view of him but needing a moment by myself.
My eyes squeeze shut, and I listen to Atlas’s every movement as he prepares a fire, letting the snap of flames replace the uneasy silence of the forest. I focus on the sound. On anything but this pit brewing inside me.
This fiery-hot ball in my chest started so small, and now, it spreads through everything. Anger. Frustration. At my parents for not telling me the full truth. At the kingdom I fight to save, when it’s destroyed everyone I love. At myself for being so trusting.
I coil into that emotion and wish it would burn so hot it would die out because I’m on the verge of combusting. It’s all I feel lately. It’s eating me alive.
Rage. Doubt.
It’s becoming all I am, and I don’t know how to stop it.