Chapter Fifty-Seven
Before Penn even opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong: Valerian’s arms weren’t wrapped around him.
Every night since Val had woken up on that mountain, they’d fallen asleep together and woken up together.
For those first days, they barely left each other’s sides.
But Adelaide had insisted some time apart would be better for Valerian’s recovery, so for the past few days, Penn had helped clean up the city while Valerian read through his old grimoires, trying to remember who he was.
They still always woke up together though, so Valerian’s sudden absence made Penn’s chest tighten with panic.
What if Alistair never really died? What if he’s been biding his time until we all let our guard down?
He clawed at the sheets beside him, noting that they were still warm, so Val wouldn’t have gotten far.
Penn threw the blankets off of him, exposing his naked limbs to the chill morning, already running through a list of places Valerian might be.
Only to pause when he saw the figure at the window.
White flakes swirled and danced in the wind beyond the glass. The first snow of winter.
“It’s beautiful,” Valerian said, his voice soft with reverence.
He’d only put on a pair of pants, leaving his torso naked, exposing the overlapping scars on his back.
At night, when he was alone with Penn, he’d started taking off the glamoured ring.
There were no more secrets between them.
Everything Val knew of himself, Penn knew now too.
Penn wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and joined Val at the window. “Have you ever seen snow before?”
“I don’t know.”
Penn flinched. It was a question he would have asked anyone who hadn’t grown up on the mountains, but he hadn’t considered the implications of asking someone who’d lost most of themselves. He opened his mouth to apologize when a delighted laugh interrupted him.
“Isn’t that wonderful? To experience something so beautiful for the first time again.”
Penn glanced at Valerian, instinctively checking his eyes—hazel—and stared in awe for a moment at the genuine smile lighting up his face.
Maybe losing his memories was a good thing?
Penn flinched at the thought, guilt immediately overshadowing his joy.
Of course it wasn’t a good thing. Those memories were a part of him, good or bad.
A firm hand grasped Penn’s chin and raised it until he locked eyes with Valerian. “None of that,” he scolded before pressing a gentle kiss to Penn’s lips. “I made my choices, I know that much.”
“Choices you wouldn’t have needed to make if I’d saved you sooner,” Penn replied.
“Or if you’d killed me as Adelaide wanted.
” Val slipped an arm under Penn’s blanket shroud, pulling him close.
His skin was surprisingly warm against Penn’s despite standing half-naked at the window.
These days, he always seemed to run hot, like the fires still burned somewhere inside him.
“We both survived and that’s all I wanted. ”
“But—”
Valerian cut Penn off with a kiss, holding him in place so he couldn’t do anything but accept the hot tongue exploring his mouth. Eventually, he relaxed into the touch, kissing Valerian back with equal fervor.
When they finally pulled away, they were both a little short of breath. “You know what I want to do now?” Valerian murmured against Penn’s lips. He ran his hands down Penn’s naked back, tracing his spine with gentle fingers that made him shiver. “Something to warm us up, get our blood pumping …”
Penn grinned and nodded. “I know exactly what we should do.”
Valerian leaned down for another kiss, but Penn slipped out of his grip. All he ended up holding onto was the blanket.
“A snowball fight,” Penn declared. “So you can have the full experience of an Arnsveldian winter.”
The bemusement in Valerian’s expression quickly turned to excitement. “Do I get a prize if I win the fight?”
“Of course,” Penn replied as he walked to his wardrobe. He tossed a grin over his shoulder and added, “But you’re not going to win.”
They bundled up in several layers of warm clothes—a task that took twice as long as usual, with Valerian constantly trying to strip the layers back off Penn and planting mischievous kisses along his skin—and headed outside.
Sometime during the night, it had snowed six inches.
They waded through the thick, fluffy snow, out into Penn’s yard.
“So, what you want to do,” Penn began, bending down to gather snow into his gloved hands.
He’d barely started forming the ball when something cold smacked into his ass.
Whirling around, he saw that Valerian had somehow already gathered a small pile of perfectly spherical snowballs at his feet. “You can’t use magic! That’s cheating!”
“Is it?” Valerian asked with a deceptively innocent expression. “I’m just practicing what I learned from my grimoires.”
“Half the fun is making them by hand,” Penn scolded. “Get rid of those.”
“All right,” Valerian said, bending down to scoop the pile into his hands.
Penn should have known Valerian’s easy agreement was a trick, but he still yelped when the first snowball hurtled toward him. He dodged to the side, scowling, then bent down, grabbed a fistful of snow, and chucked it right at Valerian’s head.
Since he was holding the snowballs, Valerian couldn’t defend himself, and the snow struck him, bursting against his borrowed wool hat, knocking it slightly askew.
Laughing in triumph, Penn scooped up more snow as rapidly as he could, caring less about form and more about speed as they tossed snowballs back and forth.
With each new toss, he jogged back a few steps, determined to put some distance between himself and Valerian.
Once he finally had the cottage between them, he knelt down and rapidly began forming a small stockpile of ammunition.
After about five minutes and too many snowballs to count, he realized Valerian hadn’t chased after him. Suspicious, Penn gathered up as many snowballs as he could carry and crept around the side of the house.
Valerian stood with his back to Penn, talking with two heavily bundled figures. So focused on getting his revenge, Penn didn’t bother looking at the other people as he reared his arm back and chucked the snowball with all his might.
Sensing the danger, Valerian dodged to the side, and the snowball smacked one of his companions straight in the face.
A gasping laugh escaped Penn as he realized his mistake. He jogged over to apologize to his unintended victim. Snow stuck in the man’s beard and hair even as he wiped it carefully away with his gloved hands. “So sorry about that—”
Once the man finished cleaning his face, a familiar pair of tawny eyes smiled back at Penn. “That’s one way to say hello.”
“Silas!” Penn dropped the snowballs in his arms to wrap his friend in a tight hug. “When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday, but I was a bit occupied.” When Silas pulled away, his cheeks were red from more than the cold.
Archer wrapped his arm possessively around Silas, tugging him close to his side. “We had business to discuss,” he explained in a deep rumble.
Penn’s lips twitched. “I’m sure you did.
How’s everything in Bellacosta?” he asked Silas.
Archer told them about the fire, which explained what had happened to the communication book and Valerian’s supplies.
He’d been right, in a way, that it was Alistair’s allies who had been responsible for the destruction.
“That’s a long story,” Silas said. “Perhaps one we should discuss inside?” Despite his many layers, he was still shivering. “The snow’s lovely, but I could do without the biting cold.”
“What good timing,” a voice said from behind them. “I was just about to invite you all to warm up.”
“Penn!” an excited voice called, and then a small figure launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle. “I’ve missed you so much!” Emmaline exclaimed, beaming up at him.
Penn wrapped her in a tight hug, then picked her up off her feet and whirled her around until she was breathless from giggling.
When he set her down again, he just took a moment to look at her, to confirm for himself that she was all right.
The last time he’d seen her had been at Causley Estate, running from Niall.
Seeing her now, smiling just as brightly as before her ordeal, made a little knot of tension finally unravel inside him.
Another arm wrapped around him and Valerian pulled him away from Emmaline.
Though his smile was charming, his eyes were narrowed in assessment.
They’d only met briefly once, so it wasn’t surprising she was someone he’d forgotten.
His eyes flicked between Emmaline and Adelaide, probably noting all the similarities between mother and daughter.
He didn’t ask for an introduction or otherwise indicate the girl was a mystery to him.
Adelaide was the only other person who knew of Valerian’s lost memories. He was already a mysterious figure who kept his secrets locked deep inside his heart, so they’d decided it was safer to pretend nothing was wrong. The only other person who might notice a difference was—
“There you all are!” Griselda bellowed as she stomped across the snow. She was bundled up tighter than anyone else, with only her hard eyes showing between her hat and her scarf.
Penn’s heart sank as he looked between Griselda and Valerian.
She was the reason Penn and Valerian had met.
She’d known the mage for decades, worked with him on countless missions.
Although she was more likely to call him a bastard than a friend, she knew him well enough to see changes in his demeanor.
And there was no way the old Valerian wouldn’t recognize her, even bundled up as she was.
“This is the worst place for a reunion,” Griselda grumbled, wrapping her arms tight around herself.
“I don’t know, Gris,” Valerian drawled. “Remember the swamp?”
Penn’s breath caught at the familiarity in his tone. Is this a real memory, or something he learned from the grimoires?
Griselda barked out a laugh. “Gods, that place stank to high heaven. Still better than freezing your ass off though.”
Adelaide’s lips twitched in a smile. “Why don’t we all go inside then, and I’ll put the kettle on.”
They all dutifully shuffled behind Adelaide to her cottage. Although he’d been inside since the fight, Penn still paused in the doorway, his eyes searching the floor for blood stains. It’d all been cleaned up, of course, but it’d become a habit.
Adelaide had prepared for the company, arranging her small space with half a dozen chairs. She gestured for everyone to sit while she bustled around the kitchen, preparing the tea. Emmaline joined her, placing fresh baked pastries on a plate.
Valerian pulled up his chair so close to Penn’s that they were practically sitting in each other’s laps.
Penn considered putting a little distance between them, until he noticed Archer and Silas sitting on the couch.
Archer’s arm wrapped around Silas’ shoulder, Silas’ hand resting on Archer’s thigh.
Casual affection they’d been too nervous to share openly before.
“Which story do you want to hear first?” Griselda demanded.
She’d unwrapped the scarf from around her throat but kept the rest of the winter clothes on.
“Varro’s death? Finding a body in the vault?
Archer was there for Alistair’s first death, but I’m happy to tell it again.
” She snapped her teeth eagerly in the air.
“What I’d really like to hear,” Adelaide said as she set cups in front of everyone, “is why Silas is here instead of at home.”
The pink tinge returned to Silas’ cheeks. “Someone needed to bring you supplies for winter,” he said evasively as he took a sip.
Penn wasn’t paying attention when he raised the warm teacup to his mouth, so the flood of sweetness took him off guard. Startled, he looked into the cup and saw liquid chocolate rather than the tea he’d expected. “You brought chocolate?”
“Emmaline insisted,” Silas replied, his eyes sparkling. “And the pirate captain she befriended was happy to carry whatever supplies she was paid for.”
“Pirate captain?” Valerian echoed, eyebrows arched in surprise. “Anyone I know?”
Penn watched him carefully, impressed and a little concerned about his acting abilities.
“Not Everett,” Griselda growled. “Em made sure to chase the bastard off with his tail between his legs.”
Adelaide’s hands froze with her cup raised in mid-air. “You met Everett?” she asked, her voice tight as she turned to her daughter.
“Yes,” Emmaline admitted, looking down at her cup. “He was … well, you were right, Mama. We’re much happier without him.”
Quiet fell across the group at the assertion, knowing how Emmaline’s heart was broken to discover the truth about her father.
Silas cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “There is something important I’d like to announce before we begin sharing gory stories.
” His hands clenched tight around his mug of hot chocolate and he took a deep breath.
But when he looked at Archer, a radiant smile spread across his face. “Archer and I are getting married.”
Joyous exclamations spread through the group. Penn got up to hug both Archer and Silas and congratulate them in turn.
“When’s the wedding?” Emmaline demanded, bouncing on her feet with excitement.
“Not for a few years,” Silas explained with a laugh. “We want things to calm down a bit first.”
Penn sat back down and rested his head on Valerian’s shoulder.
Val grabbed Penn’s hand and entangled their fingers together, then pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
Watching his friends discuss their future settled a long-held restlessness inside him.
Look at how much we’ve survived. Kidnappings, curses, war, and mad mages.
Some of them had more scars and fewer memories, but they’d survived and thrived through it all.
Whatever future hardships they faced, they would conquer them together.