Chapter 74
Zadriel
Arcadia pressed in on them, the strip of Forest funneling them closer to Baith before they could end their journey and make it to Eden.
Zadriel eyed the reddish-orange clay roofing of Baith’s church, its pointed tower lording over the village.
Staring down at them from afar, as if in judgment.
Stained-glass windows glinted gold with every tickle of the sun’s rays, an ode to their Sun God, the spire crawling toward the heavens as if it would reach him.
Zadriel rolled his eyes while he adjusted his hood, hoping those in the nearby farmhouses paid them no mind.
“What was that?” Aedlin asked.
“What was what?”
“You scoffed.”
He straightened. “Did I?”
Aoife shifted Darius in her arms, the child giggling while he played with a dandelion they’d plucked for him earlier.
“You did,” she said, unable to quash her small, amused grin.
The tension between them had eased somewhat now that they walked around Baith, the promise of Eden nearing.
It almost made Zadriel regret what came next—he had yet to tell her his change of plans.
He jerked his head toward the looming wall of trees. “It’s the irony of a church being so near the Forest. Arcadia does not welcome human Gods.”
“Pretentious Fae not welcoming our Gods, no surprises there,” Aoife mumbled.
“The Forest doesn’t welcome other Gods,” Zadriel corrected. “The Fae respect Her wishes.”
Aedlin cocked her head to the side, staring at the trees with a furrowed brow. “You expect me to believe a cluster of trees has thought?”
“Arcadia is a living, breathing thing. Every creature, every tree, every blade of grass is connected to the Mother, and we all hear Her song, the Forest forever calling us home.” Even now, he felt it.
A beckoning. Soft music curling through the breeze and pulling on his heart.
He’d never experienced anything like it.
Until Mora—the hold she had on him felt similar, an endless weave spun by the hands of the Fates, tethering their souls.
If she were here, he wondered which call would beckon harder.
A lone maple bent toward him, budding leaves tickling his shoulder. Zadriel lifted a hand to the tilted boughs and allowed himself a small smile. “She was once a Goddess your Gods threw from the heavens. One of them, anyway, if the story’s to be believed.”
The church spire and the Forest warred for Aoife’s attention, her blue-green eyes darting between them. “Why would a God do such a thing?”
“Because,” Zadriel said, tilting his head up toward the sky as if he could glare at the heavens, “human or God, there are few things more dangerous than a man who believes he owns a woman.”
Fury flared in Aedlin’s amber eyes, a look he’d seen on her daughter’s face the night they’d met. “Indeed,” she muttered, violence coating her tone. The muscles in her jaw worked, her gaze somewhere far away.
Dragging his fingers along the maple’s branches, Zadriel kept his focus on Arcadia. The foreboding wall of trees stood in formation, like ligneous soldiers standing arm in arm, gnarled boughs weaved together. Crowding one another. Their imposing height casting a shadow over Baith.
No human or Halfling could walk through the trees, but for Zadriel, they’d part.
Even after... everything.
Perhaps Darius would grow to be a powerful Enchanter and set Zadriel free. Then he could return home and make things right.
“Do you believe in the Gods?” Aoife sounded so small. So uncertain.
What would she think when they neared Eden and Zadriel offered her a choice—continue alone or remain with him and Aedlin and build a haven of their own. It was cruel, waiting until the end to tell her, but she’d been unhappy enough with him. There was no reason to sully the rest of their journey.
“I believe in the Mother,” he offered, his fingers falling from the edge of the maple’s spindly branch.
The tree continued to stretch toward him, but he’d moved out of reach, skirting an old pasture fence while they walked through a farmer’s field.
“She’s as real as the air we breathe, and the creator of my parents. ”
Aoife gave Zadriel an incredulous look. “Are you saying your grandmother is a Goddess?”
He chuckled softly. “Not exactly.”
“It certainly sounds that way,” Aedlin added, though her tone was empty. As if she were lost in the clutches of apathy, succumbing to the weight of its furious grip.
He glanced her way, a silent question on his face—what’s wrong? But Aedlin shook her head and motioned for him to go on.
“My parents weren’t born in the traditional sense,” he said, his mother’s kind, golden eyes flashing in his mind. “They were made by the hands of the Mother, to Keep her Forest, fully formed and burdened with knowledge from their first breath.”
“They were born as adults?” Aoife gasped, so enthralled by his answer she nearly tripped over a wayward stone sticking up through fresh clumps of grass and weeds.
“Yes, they awoke in the meadow at the center of the Forest, my mother first, though my father joined her quickly.” He couldn’t help his grin—what must it have been like, to awaken to such splendor?
To be blessed by power and love from your earliest breath?
“There were others who came later, all matter of Arcadian creatures, though none were given the same title and expectations as my parents.”
“Were you... born?” Aoife pursed her lips, pale brows raised. She’d slowed her pace, looking at Zadriel as if for the first time.
His smirk grew wider, sharp canines on display while a laugh rumbled in his chest. “Yes, I was born. In the traditional sense. Though, as the child of Arcadia’s Keepers, I too, have my own burdens.”
And murdered my legacy, he thought, the joy tumbling from his face.
Aoife joined him, her voice growing somber. “At least you got to experience childhood.”
A frown pulled on Zadriel’s lips. He swallowed past the pain in his throat, scars aching while his fingers clenched into tight fists, but he went on.
“If the Mother is real, I see no reason why your Gods would be any different.” His dark eyes flicked to Aoife.
“That doesn’t change that they have no place in my home. ”
“Mama!” Darius squealed, wriggling in Aoife’s arms, reaching for Aedlin—had Zadriel’s sternness scared him?
The queen squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, too many emotions warring on her face before they were replaced by a stony expression.
It was as if she transformed in a blink.
The truth, however, could be found in her eyes.
A dullness saturated the bright color, agony hiding in their depths.
The queen held the babe close, her hand sprawling on his rich brown hair, while Aoife crossed her arms and asked, “If Arcadia is your home, why are we going to Eden?”
Zadriel cleared his throat and pulled at the straps on his shoulder, rough canvas catching on his cloak while he adjusted their bags. “The home we want and the home we are given are not always the same. If the Fates present you with a choice, Aoife, take it. It is a luxury many of us never have.”
They came to an old wooden fence, paint peeling off the rickety boards.
The rush of the river hummed on the other side, wet, earthy air pushing underneath Zadriel’s hood and soothing his heated skin.
He offered Aoife and Aedlin a hand before climbing to the other side, splinters licking his fingers.
An overgrown field led down to Arcadia, rolling hills marking the way to the Forest’s edge.
From the outskirts of Baith, it almost appeared like a dead end, the ominous wall cuddling the river on both sides, extending southward to the ocean and as far north as one could wander.
Cutting Berwick nearly in half. But there was a break in the trees, hidden within the river valley, that led to Eden.
Zadriel stood stock still, staring at the Forest for a blink too long. Greedily drinking the evergreen aroma permeating the damp air. “Aoife.”
She turned, something churning in her ocean eyes at the softness in his voice. “Yes?”
It was an effort, forcing himself to look away from the woods. Freeing the words he knew she might not like. “You don’t need to go to Eden.”
“What?” Her cheeks turned ruddy. “We made a bargain! You promised me we’d—”
Zadriel held up a hand and she shut her mouth, her breathing coming out in harsh pants, the river’s hum building to a roar as the wind grew frantic. “I said I’d give you Eden, and I will. We’re nearly there—I’m showing you the way, but you don’t have to go.”
“Where the fuck else would I go?” she huffed, nostrils flaring, an ocean storm raging in her eyes. “You said Eden was safe, there’s nowhere else.”
“Stay with us.” Zadriel gestured toward Aedlin and Darius, the babe greeting him with half-lidded eyes, barely clinging to wakefulness.
Glimmering amber and azure somehow soothing and disheartening all at once, as if Zadriel stared at everything he’d lost and everything he hoped for at the same time.
He needed to believe their plan would work.
That he could build another life for himself. “We’ll find somewhere safe to settle.”
Aoife’s eyes locked onto Zadriel’s scars—she cut him with that stare, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Watch your tongue, girl,” Aedlin snapped.
A harsh laugh slipped through the air Elementalist’s gritted teeth.
“You have no right to make demands of me.” The wind twirled around her, tugging at her long, blonde hair, billowing in Zadriel’s hood until it nearly tore free.
“I’ve watched countless Halflings die because the royal family’s Laws deemed us all monsters.
They’ll never let us live freely,” Aoife seethed at Zadriel.
“Gods, I saved you from the noble daughter of the man who sired me, and I heard their plans for us. You can’t honestly believe there’s anywhere else we could go. ”
Zadriel sighed through his nose, his fingers curling around his hood to hold it in place. “Eden would be a safe haven for you, Aoife, not me. The Fates gave me a choice, and I’m taking it, the least I can do is offer you the same.”
Aoife wrapped her arms around her center, her furious gaze bouncing from him to Aedlin and back. “I told you what I wanted the day we met, Fae. Take me to Eden.”