Chapter 49 Unpack Emotional Baggage
(So You Have Room for More Daggers)
Arabella
No, no, the pustules won’t appear until the third day.” I patted Lady Moonbay’s trembling hand as she clutched her youngest daughter. “And that’s only if you were exposed. Which you weren’t. Because we got you out in time.”
The Sky Serpent creaked in the wind, and half the rescued families whimpered. They’d been doing that for the past three hours.
“But the lesions—” Lord Tidehaven started.
“Also third day. Sometimes fourth.” I forced a bright smile. “Really, you’re all perfectly safe now.”
Note to self: Next time, skip the plague excuse. Pirates would have been simpler. Or dragons. Everyone understood dragons. I even had one to use, if they didn’t believe me.
I escaped to the upper deck, leaving the families to their hypochondriac panic.
The salt wind whipped my hair around, still stiff in places from dried blood I hadn’t quite managed to wash out.
Nyx circled lazily above, occasionally diving to snatch fish from the waves.
At least someone was having a good time.
My fingers found the Heirloom beneath my skin, that constant presence that had become as familiar as my own heartbeat. Through our bond, I could feel Kazimir—distant, his emotions a muted hum of satisfaction tinged with something darker. Whatever had happened in Valmont, he’d handled it.
But Zaraiah’s words kept echoing: The Syndicate is done with him.
“Lord Pearlbridge is convinced he has early-stage boils.”
I didn’t turn at Sebastian’s voice. I’d been avoiding him since we left the God Spire, finding excuses to be elsewhere whenever he appeared. The ship wasn’t that big, but I’d managed it through sheer determination and creative hiding spots.
“They’re mosquito bites,” I said.
“I told him that.” He moved to stand beside me at the rail, careful to keep a respectful distance. “He asked for a second opinion from someone who’d actually seen plague boils.”
I smirked. “Turns out ‘the king wants to sacrifice you’ doesn’t motivate people quite like ‘your face might melt off.’ ”
Sebastian laughed—that same warm sound I’d heard in my recovered memory. The one from when we were children, before everything went to hell.
I finally turned to look at him properly—really look at him for the first time since we’d left the Spire.
The wind caught his long blond hair, pulling strands loose from where he’d tied it back.
In the fading light, he looked like something out of a storybook—the kind of handsome that made court ladies fawn and write terrible poetry.
Sharp jawline, violet eyes that seemed to glow in certain light, the sort of aristocratic features that belonged on coins or tapestries.
Objectively, I could acknowledge he was beautiful. The same way I could acknowledge a sunset was beautiful, or a well-crafted blade. It was a fact that existed independent of any personal feeling.
But when I looked at him, all I felt was… fond. The way you might feel about a favorite book from childhood, or a particularly comfortable pair of shoes. Warm, but utterly uncomplicated.
Nothing like the electric charge that ran through me when Kazimir so much as glanced my way.
“Sebastian.” I leaned on the railing. “We need to talk.”
His eyebrows rose. “That sounds ominous.”
“About the kiss.”
His face went through several interesting color changes before settling on a pink that clashed with his violet eyes.
“Ah.” He cleared his throat. “You remember that.”
“Recently, yes. Along with you defending me from my father. And the time we tried to teach ourselves levitation and ended up stuck on the conservatory roof for six hours.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Your governess was furious.”
“She thought we’d been kidnapped.” I matched his smile despite myself. “We could hear her screaming about ransom notes while we were trying not to fall off.”
The memory was warm, untainted by what came after. “We were idiots.”
“We were twelve.”
“Same thing.” I sobered, meeting his eyes. “Sebastian, I’m sorry. About forgetting. About… all of it.”
His expression shifted to something more serious. “Arabella—”
“My father had mages alter my memories.” The words tumbled out quickly. “After my mother died. After I started showing power. They took years from me, scrambled things, made me forget anyone who might have…” I swallowed. “Anyone who might have cared. And I remembered you, but not everything.”
Sebastian’s hands clenched on the rail, knuckles white. For a moment, I saw something in his gentle features that reminded me of Kazimir—a flash of genuine rage.
“I knew something was wrong.” He spoke roughly. “When you came back from that ‘illness,’ you looked right through me. Like we’d never spent every summer together. Like we hadn’t—”
He stopped abruptly, his jaw working as he visibly fought to control his anger. When he spoke again, his voice was low and bitter in a way I’d never heard from him.
“Someone had to have known.” The words came out clipped. “The court physicians. The servants who saw you locked in that tower. The nobles who watched a vibrant girl turn into a shadow of herself. They all just… pretended not to see.”
I felt my chest tighten. “I’m still working through that myself,” I admitted quietly. “The idea that people I smiled at, danced with, drank tea with… they might have known what was happening to me and just…” I trailed off, unable to finish.
“Decided it wasn’t their problem.” Sebastian’s laugh was harsh. “The great nobility of Solandris. So concerned with propriety and honor, unless it means actually doing something difficult.”
The bitterness in his voice surprised me. This wasn’t the gentle, diplomatic Sebastian I remembered.
“You sound like Kazimir,” I said without thinking.
He turned to look at me, and for a moment, I saw why he’d been willing to invite Bone Witches to a ball, why he’d fled rather than turn himself over to Auremar. There was steel under all that kindness.
“Maybe the Dark Lord has a point about some things,” he said quietly. “At least he’s honest about what he is.”
We stood in weighted silence for a moment before Sebastian seemed to shake himself, the anger draining from his features.
“I’m sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not—I shouldn’t be angry at ghosts. It doesn’t help you now.”
“It helps to know someone else sees it,” I admitted. “That I’m not just being dramatic about how wrong it all was.”
He studied me for a long moment. “Do you remember everything now? From before?”
The question hung between us, loaded with meaning we both understood.
“Most of it, I think.” I turned back to the sea, needing the distance. “The important parts, anyway.”
“The Palace Garden?” His voice was carefully neutral.
I closed my eyes. “Near the topiaries with the pixies. You’d just had honey cakes.”
“You said you loved me.” The words were quiet, almost lost in the wind.
“I remember.”
“I said it back.”
“I remember that, too.”
We stood in silence for a moment, the past and present tangling uncomfortably between us.
I’d told Sebastian I loved him when we were children, when the word came as easily as breathing. Back then, I’d known what love was—my mother’s gentle hands braiding my hair, her soft songs at bedtime, the warmth of being cherished. I’d been loved, so loving in return felt natural.
But Kazimir? I wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced love—in any form.
Not from his mother who carved runes into his bones.
Certainly not from his father who saw him as a threat.
Not from anyone, really. The thought made my heart ache for him.
How could I expect him to say words he’d never heard?
How could I blame him for not knowing the language of something he’d never received?
“For what it’s worth,” Sebastian said, pulling me away from my guilty thoughts, “you were my first kiss.”
I opened my eyes to find him studying the horizon, a self-deprecating smile on his face.
“At the time, I thought we’d get married.” He laughed, but it sounded forced. “Stupid, really. Even then, I should have known you were destined for bigger things than a life of agricultural reform and trade negotiations.”
“Sebastian—”
“Oh, I’m not that boy anymore.” He held up a hand quickly. “I grew up. Saw the world. Learned that first loves rarely survive reality.” His smile turned more genuine. “Especially when said first love becomes a terrifying dark sorceress who throws people out of windows.”
My mouth twitched. “Just the one time.”
“Still.” He turned to look at me properly. “I’m glad you’re happy, Arabella. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve it more than anyone I know.”
The sincerity in his voice sent warmth through me. “Don’t let Kazimir hear you say that. He already thinks you’re trying to steal me away.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He shuddered theatrically. “I don’t want to end up like those assassins.”
We fell into easier conversation after that, trading memories.
The time we convinced the stable boys we’d seen a dragon and caused a panic.
The summer we decided to map every secret passage in the palace and got hopelessly lost and missed the summer solstice festival.
The way he’d always brought me books from his family’s library, the ones about magic theory that proper ladies weren’t supposed to read.
It felt nice. Like finding a favorite toy from childhood and discovering it still brought joy.
“Your father,” I said eventually. “Is he safe?”
Sebastian’s expression darkened. “I got word from him a few days ago. He’s been holding Auremar off, claiming I’m on urgent family business in the Eastern Realms. But the king’s getting impatient.
” Sebastian watched Nyx dive under the ship.
“And it didn’t help that the entire company of soldiers chasing me were found slaughtered, though Auremar rightly believes that’s the Dark Lord’s doing, for daring to get too close to the border.
” Sebastian picked at a splinter on the rail.
“Father’s considering formally disowning me just to make me useless for Auremar’s purposes.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that Auremar wants to literally sacrifice me, and my status as the heir to the Northern Peaks won’t change anything. ”
“That’s—”
He shrugged. “Better than my father being in danger of knowing too much about Auremar’s plans.”
I thought about Lord Evenfall, rotting in Skyspire’s dungeons. Our families were so different. “What will you do? After all this is over?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” He was quiet for a moment. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to make sure you were safe first.”
“Sebastian—”
“I know you don’t need protection.” He held up a hand. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just…” He frowned, choosing his words carefully. “Something’s not quite right with the Dark Lord.”
My spine stiffened. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not questioning your choice.” His tone was gentle but firm. “Or your happiness. But there’s something in his eyes sometimes. Something that has nothing to do with being a villain and everything to do with—” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing. If he was picking up on the Shadow King’s influence bleeding through, it was worse than I thought.
“I don’t need you to save me from my husband,” I said carefully.
“I know.” He smiled sadly. “You never needed saving. Not really. You just needed people to stop trying to cage you.”
The truth of that struck me with unexpected force, settling somewhere deep in my chest where all the complicated feelings about my father and my past lived in a tangled knot I still hadn’t quite unraveled.
“So,” I said, desperately needing to change the subject. “What’s going on with you and Vex?”
Sebastian blinked at the shift. “Sorry?”
“Oh, come on. She seemed very interested in your scone recipe.”
“Well, the scones are exceptional,” he said with a crooked grin. “Can’t blame anyone for that.”
“Right.” I studied his face, finding only good-natured amusement. Nothing hidden, nothing deflected. “What about Griffin?”
The change was immediate. Sebastian’s ears turned pink, and he suddenly found the horizon fascinating.
“Griffin is…” He cleared his throat. “He’s brilliant.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” But his voice pitched slightly higher, and my truth-sense gave the faintest tingle—not a lie, but definitely not the whole truth.
I leaned closer, delighted. “What happened at the God Spire?”
His ears turned pink. “He got hurt trying to find me after I left the Gilded Gallows. I just—I wanted to make sure he was all right. Anyone would have done the same.”
“Mmm-hmm. And the fact that he looks at you like you hung the moon?”
“He looks at everyone like that when they’re kind to him.” Sebastian’s voice went soft, almost sad. “Which says more about how he’s been treated than anything else.”
The gentle observation was so perfectly Sebastian—seeing the loneliness in Griffin’s hero worship instead of just being flattered by it.
“He’s lucky to have you as a friend,” I said quietly.
Sebastian met my eyes, something complicated flickering in his expression. “I’m not sure I’m what he needs.”
“What do you mean?”
Sebastian opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head with a rueful grin. “You have surrounded yourself with an interesting group of people, Lady Blackrose.”
And that, apparently, was all he would say on the matter. He pointed dramatically at the darkness below the Sky Serpent. “Look, dolphins!”
“We’re over land.”
“Must have just missed them. Shame.” He was already backing away with a grin. “I should go check on our guests. Make sure their mosquito bites haven’t evolved into certain death.”
“Sebastian!”
But he was gone, leaving me alone with the wind and unanswered questions.
“Interesting group of people,” I muttered. “That’s one way to put it.”