Chapter 78
Zadriel
The pungent stench of fish invaded Zadriel’s nostrils until it swam in his lungs, a grimace painting his face while he peeled off a filet.
“You look as though you might vomit,” Aedlin said, chuckling at Zadriel while she offered a piece to Darius. The little one crushed the meat in his grip, licking what remained on his palms.
Zadriel swallowed, bile clawing up his throat in protest of the briny invasion. “I’ve had enough fish to last an immortal lifetime, and I’ve hated every second of it.”
An amused smirk pulled on Aedlin’s cheeks, despite her best attempt to quash it. “It was unwise of you to be born on an island then.”
“Glad my suffering is amusing to you.” A rumble churned in his stomach, and he wrinkled his nose before popping the fish in his mouth. Forcing himself to chew and swallow quickly.
Aedlin took her time savoring her next bite, the ebb and flow of the bay filling the silence, the tide lapping at the shore. “There are worse things than eating something you don’t enjoy.”
He took a long, greedy drink from his cowhide flask, cool water sweeping the oily brine from his tongue. “I assumed queens had more refined senses,” he muttered, wiping his lips with his forearm.
“A queen needs to sit with a serene smile on her face, taking whatever is given to her,” she said, tearing off another piece of fish with practiced poise, her focus slipping past Zadriel’s broad shoulder, toward the water.
It was odd, being back at Esper Rocks, free from the blood thrall, yet without Aoife—Zadriel hoped she fared well in Eden. That she’d kept her word and hadn’t told Brennan of her journey with them.
Bright red material billowed in the distance, the remains of Elodie’s tent trapped under snapped trees and broken posts.
A mound of dirt marked what could only be Silas’s grave, though it was difficult to imagine Elodie dragging his corpse up from the shore.
Perhaps she’d buried something in his stead before she left.
Hoofprints marked dried patches of mud, leading north, Elodie and her black stallions gone.
At least she traveled alone—Zadriel doubted she could accomplish her plans on her own, her champion unlikely to find a crown on their head.
Berwick was dangerous enough for Halflings; if Elodie got her way, Aoife’s grim assessment of Zadriel and Aedlin’s plans might hold true.
He needed to believe they’d avoided such a fate.
Aedlin cleared her throat, drawing Zadriel from his thoughts. “Contrary to what most believe, I did not have control over everything.”
“How so?”
She pursed her lips, picking at what little meat remained on the fish carcass, and considered his question.
It almost reminded Zadriel of a Fae carefully contemplating their words before deciding which truths to share...
and what to leave in the shadows. “If we’re speaking of food, the kitchen knew what our preferred dishes were, but I never had time to manage their daily menus.
And when nobles visited the castle, it was far more beneficial to keep them happy.
My needs hardly mattered. Making the right impression is more important than personal comfort. ”
Zadriel didn’t miss the bitterness in her tone, buried beneath her graceful cadence—Aedlin was every bit the queen in this moment, despite her drab blue dress or the large leaf serving as her plate.
“And if we’re not talking about food?” he asked, pressing her further.
It was selfish of him, but learning about this part of her life made him feel closer to Cillian—they’d grown distant over the course of his final year, his time as king a mystery.
The ache of his brother’s death still pulsed in his chest, a hollow space where Cillian’s tether once wove around his soul.
Soothed only by the warmth he felt in Mora’s presence in his dreams.
The mask on Aedlin’s face slipped, lips curling when she picked a final piece of meat from her fish carcass and gave it to Darius.
“On paper, my word was final on matters of law, however”—she flicked a hand through the air, pointing at nothing and everything at once—“you’ve seen the power the nobles have; I could only push the Royal Council so far before they’d threaten my head.
Ruling is a dangerous game, Zadriel. One that can prove deadly if you take a single wrong step.
That’s why I...” She hesitated, her focus drifting away from her son and back down to the waves crashing on the beach.
Her face bleak. Haunted. “I married Dother because they demanded a king, and, if I didn’t comply, they’d find another way to get what they wanted.
A bloodier way.” Aedlin blew out a long breath.
“That is what it means to be queen. A little fish is nothing.”
Zadriel’s mouth felt dry—all he could think to say was, “I suppose not,” his stomach turning. Hunger dissipating. Still, he forced himself to take another bite, keeping his grimace at bay. “Is this why you did nothing after overturning the Laws?”
The fallen queen’s face shadowed further, despite the sinking sun still clinging to the horizon.
“I could tell you about how desperate Kal and I were to save our daughter. How many months we spent pushing the Council to stand down as we exercised our full power as royals. Or the threats that followed, both covert and implicit, and the way we had to bend on everything else to rebuild some trust and attempt not to be overthrown.” Aedlin’s fists curled in her skirt, thin material bunching in her grip.
“But, while that is true, I only considered the Laws deeply when I realized how they’d impact my daughter.
Once Mora was free of them, my focus was on ensuring our safety, my concerns never extending past the castle walls. ”
He nodded gravely. “I’ve watched countless Halflings escape the hells of your Laws to find safety in Eden.
” Zadriel pushed the bony remains of his meal aside.
“To me, though, Eden was a prison. Brennan hates my people for the Exodus; I wasn’t alive when it happened, but I’ve paid for it in blood.
There are so many things I don’t know, plans he’s made I’ve only gathered pieces of... that Cillian—”
Amber eyes narrowed. “I thought we agreed it was best not to speak of him.”
Zadriel’s lips thinned, but he dipped his chin. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Perhaps someday we’ll both be ready.” Stretching out his long legs, he leaned back, his palms pressing into thin blades of prickly grass. “My point is, Brennan created a haven, but he’s still a monster.”
“What does that have to do with my own failures?” Aedlin asked, face solemn.
She bowed her head, long brown hair curtaining her face.
Gone were the tight, perfect buns with nary a strand out of place—the Aedlin sitting before him looked almost nothing like the poised royal that once sat on the throne. Perhaps this was what Berwick needed.
He offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Your family created hell in Berwick, but that doesn’t mean you have to be the monster in this story. We helped Aoife. We can do more to help others like her.”
There was a gleam in her eyes when she looked up at him, a glimmer of hope he hadn’t witnessed since they’d met. “What are you proposing?”
“There must be some corner of this island where we can carve out a new haven for those who need it.”
“Another hidden village?”
A cool ocean breeze buffeted Zadriel’s hood, pulling it free and mussing his black hair.
He tipped his head back and let the last dregs of the sunlight graze his face, uncaring that the delicate points of his ears were visible—Brennan wasn’t a part of his life anymore; Zadriel no longer had to fear his wrath.
“Why not? I understand magic well enough to help the Halflings, and you’re a skilled leader. ”
They fell silent, sitting side by side, serenaded by the high-pitched caws of nearby seagulls, the ocean birds fighting over a half-rotted crab they’d found at the bottom of the hillside.
Beach grass rustled under the air’s gentle touch and Zadriel half-wondered if Aoife would climb up from the beach.
Aedlin’s sigh was heavy. “We’ll need carpenters, teachers, healers—”
“We’ll find them with time,” Zadriel said, certain they could make it work.
“And we’ll try to find your daughter too.
” As he released the words, tension melted from his shoulders, his heart thrumming a quiet, hopeful cadence, enveloped by an all-consuming warmth.
One he felt whenever he closed his eyes and found her.
Mora may not want him, but at least she would know what they were. At least they could both have a choice. A life. Somewhere in Berwick that would become a haven for all, where they could safely be themselves.
Tears lined Aedlin’s eyes. She swallowed them down, but it didn’t stop her lower lip from wavering. “I’d give anything.”
“Then we’ll make it so.” They watched the sun fall from the sky, stars twinkling overhead, glittering like Zadriel’s dark eyes. “Tell me, Aedlin, where’s the best place to settle?”