Chapter 21
I may have overstepped.
Bright and early, we broke camp and set out in silence. We kept to an old dirt track that wound through the trees—a road forgotten since before most of Arya was civilized.
Nash and I lagged behind while Rhodes and Scarlet rode ahead, silent as statues.
Wylder kept sneaking glances at my sister, but she never turned her head—her gaze fixed straight ahead like she was afraid to look anywhere else.
I’d braced myself for his usual sharp tongue, ready to volley back with my own, but he hadn’t offered a single jab.
The quiet was almost worse than the banter.
And thanks to the boredom, I found myself slipping silently into the marekem like a thief on a mission. The most I could get from Scarlet’s end without being detected was a storm of convoluted feelings. Angry, yet yearning for comfort. Hollow. Lonely. Numb.
But the deepest feeling of all—pain.
I wasn’t one to talk about feelings, let alone show them. I’d learned young that weakness gets you eaten alive in this world. If I wanted to survive—if I wanted to prove myself—I had to lock away every part of me that even hinted at fragility.
I didn’t care about others. I never would. Not caring protects me. Protects my peace—my soul.
My… heart.
Ignoring the heaviness, I started to whistle.
Scarlet glanced over her shoulder, her gaze catching mine before she let out a low grunt.
“What?”
Rhodes’s eyes flicked back to me, then to her. “She can’t whistle,” he muttered under his breath.
I grinned and doubled down, dragging the notes out longer, sharper. Nash jumped in with a smug, pitch-perfect whistle, and Rhodes joined too—turning the path into our own traveling concert of chaos.
I caught the flicker of her emotions through the marekem—annoyance edged with something warmer. She was still angry with Wylder, still hurt from whatever he’d done, but stubborn enough to patch the wound herself and pretend it didn’t hurt.
Doryan’s words echoed in my mind.
Still here.
No matter what happens, Scarlet wakes up and puts one foot forward. She’s still here.
Nash abruptly stopped whistling, leaving our little band in an off-key mess.
“Ahhh,” he sighed, stretching in the saddle. “I am so looking forward to a nice meal, hot bath, and a comfy bed.”
I glanced over at him. Sunlight glinted off his wavy brown hair, and that smug grin widened, revealing the dimples just under his eyes. Handsome, sure. And he had the kind of charisma that could charm the boots off a priest—even if it was usually laced with arrogance. I’d give him that much.
But he wasn’t my type. I don’t hate him enough for him to be my type.
A different thought pushed into my head. “How was Shady boy before we left? Did you get a chance to see his new housing?”
Rhodes dismounted, his gaze sharp on me. “I did. He was very appreciative.” His tone was dry.
I hid my enthusiasm at the thought of Shayde’s discomfort.
“But you know, he practically grew up in our smithy. Hopefully he doesn’t woo everyone too much with his skill. Wouldn’t want him sticking around the Hollow permanently, would ya, Fitzroy?”
I slid down from River’s back, scratching behind her ears and ignoring his jab. Nash had been right about this being a small village. Once we’d hitched the horses, we walked straight into a courtyard surrounded by five buildings, each one connected to the center by an overgrown cobblestone walkway.
No villagers were in sight until an older woman leaned out a window to dump food scraps. All the buildings looked worn, some with boarded-up windows, all with cracked foundations. Smoke still billowed from the chimneys.
“This is the Crossroads,” Rhodes explained. “It used to be a trading post decades ago, before the main street lines were installed across Arya. Now the Glade is their only trading partner—allowing the families here to remain undisturbed, and giving members of the Glade a safehouse when needed.”
“Why would the Shadow Glade need a safehouse?” my naive sister asked.
“Because the world doesn’t know they exist,” I grumbled, bumping her shoulder. “Where can we find food? You promised me a fresh meal, Salvitto.”
Nash led us to a one-story building on the right. Inside, the air was stale and heavy, our boots echoing off the bare floor. A single shaft of sunlight cut through a grimy window, catching the motes of dust drifting lazily in the air.
We chose a table in the far corner. Scarlet hesitated before sitting—her gaze flicking to Rhodes—then dropped into the chair beside me instead. Rhodes tracked her movement until she sat directly across from him, leaving Nash to take the seat at his side.
Rhodes, once sprawled with his long limbs draped carelessly over the space, now sat upright, elbows tucked in to avoid brushing against Nash.
“We’re almost to the Glade,” he said, his voice low and measured. “We need to discuss strategy.”
Nash leaned forward, popping his knuckles one by one. “Once we arrive, we’ll rest for the night and change into the Glade’s leathers and weaponry. We’re under strict orders not to be seen at Mageia, and not to cause harm.” His brown eyes flicked pointedly to me.
I rolled mine. “We get in, find the Key, and get out.”
“And get my friends,” Scarlet added.
Nash looked at her with an expression I couldn’t quite place. His features softened; his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “We will do our best to collect your friends—”
“No. There is no do our best. And they are not items to collect.” Her voice sharpened, though not with offense. “This was part of the deal. I told him”—her breath caught—“the General. That was the only way I’d help with this.”
“And we will, Scarlet,” Rhodes said, his tone threaded with a gentleness I’d never heard from him before. The complete opposite of how he spoke to me. “We will find them, and offer to rescue them from Mageia.”
Scarlet’s brows pinched together. “Offer?” she repeated incredulously.
I drummed my fingers against the table as a barmaid emerged from the kitchen. “They may not want to be saved, sis.”
Her crimson eyes burned holes through me. She angled her body toward me like a predator ready to pounce. Honestly, it made me proud to see her like this. But I kept my gaze fixed on the table, feigning boredom.
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.
My brows knit as I finally met her gaze. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not your sis,” she hissed, shoulders squaring, chin tilting like she was preparing to face down an enemy.
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?”
The words caught her off guard. Her nostrils flared. She broke eye contact, and under the table her knee bounced fast enough to rattle the legs.
She swallowed and faced forward. “Once they learn the truth, they won’t want to stay. If they haven’t left already, it’s because they can’t.”
“We’ll slip into the castle under the cover of the darkest hour. Noemi and Lakota will have to stay off campus to avoid alerting patrols. They’ll find their way to the Valley and track down Echo.”
Scarlet’s bouncing knee stilled at the mention of Tatum Sinclair’s bonded blue dragon.
Since Scarlet enrolled at Mageia, I’d done my own digging on her roommates.
Delaney Salvitto had been my prime suspect when I first sensed unrest through the marekem.
There’s something about those endlessly cheerful people that sets me on edge. Nobody’s that happy all the time.
Tatum reminded me too much of myself—so I knew right away I’d hate her. Cleo, on the other hand, was so quiet and reserved she was unreadable, which only made me more suspicious.
But I was wrong. General Fitzroy made sure I knew his disappointment about that.
He wasn’t a twin, and he’s never had a marekem connection. He didn’t understand how brutally hard it was—especially with the miles and magical wards between us—to channel through a bond with someone who didn’t even know it existed.
I’d let my guard down around Shayde Wylder, thinking the other half of me would be sharp enough to spot his red flags. And while I should have been digging deeper into him, he was the enemy hiding in plain sight.
“We should’ve asked Shady about secret entrances,” I said, watching Nash and Rhodes fall silent. “He worked with Cora for how long? He must know the ins and outs of sneaking around the castle.”
Rhodes tapped his knuckles on the table, about to respond—until Scarlet cut him off.
“The Sanctuary.”
“That’s a well-known entrance to Mageia. Its exit is guarded at all times,” Nash said.
“Well, not all the time. There are brief periods when the guards switch shifts. Shayde mentioned it to me when he invited me to a Sanctuary party.”
Rhodes’s brows rose, jaw tightening.
“But we need to do this in the dead of night—that timeline doesn’t add up,” I said, turning to Wylder. “Can you use your marekem? Try to sense any past times Shayde slipped into the castle unnoticed.”
His jaw clenched. “Shayde blocked our marekem for years before—” His gaze flicked to Scarlet.
“I haven’t been able to access anything since he opened his mental gates to me.
I’ve tried. But… there’s a small terrace off an unused hallway.
I followed him there once. The place was overgrown.
He could’ve been using it to slip in and out of Mageia. ”
“Well, that’s another option,” Nash said, clapping his hands.
“It’s four levels up, Salvitto,” Rhodes snapped. “Shayde had Drithan for transport. We can’t risk Lakota or Noemi being seen.”
“Then we climb,” I said, a plan already forming.
Scarlet’s eyes went wide—round as dragon eggs.
“We’ll scout both entrances,” Rhodes continued, steady as ever. “At the darkest hour. If we can get in, retrieve what and who we need, and get out within the hour… we might actually have a shot.”
“We might?” I scoffed.
Rhodes narrowed his eyes. A flicker of elemental fire danced at his fingertips before he clenched his hand into a fist, taming the flame.
“We can,” my sister said with conviction. “We will.”
From its outward appearance, I hadn’t held much hope for the quality of food at the Crossroads. Yet here I was, slowly climbing the stairs of the only inn, my belly full from a surprisingly delicious home-cooked meal.
Nash, Scarlet, and I reached the second floor, stepping into a narrow hallway with just one door on each side. I spun around, searching for another staircase, as if I’d somehow misjudged the building’s height.
Two doors. Two rooms. Four people.
Rhodes jogged up the stairs, confirming my suspicion. He held up two heavy iron keys.
I groaned. “You could’ve mentioned there were only two rooms, Salvitto.”
Nash shrugged. “Didn’t think it’d be that big of an issue. Rhodes and Scarlet in one, me and—”
“In your fucking dreams.” I shoved him.
Nash held his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I haven’t been dreaming like that Barren’s soldier was. I’ve been saving my imagination for the real thing.”
“Fallon and I will take one room,” Scarlet said firmly, holding her palm out to Rhodes.
His face fell, silent plea in his eyes. “Scarlet…”
But she didn’t flinch. She curled her fingers once, twice, hand still raised like a challenge. “It’s that or I bunk with Nash.”
Her crimson gaze gleamed fiercely in the dim hallway. I whistled.
Rhodes’s response was practically a growl. “I think not.”
“Try me,” she shot back.
Without hesitation, Rhodes dropped the key into her outstretched hand.
Nash snatched the other key from him, muttering as he headed toward their room, “One inn, one bed, two matching sisters. But nooo, you all just aren’t any fun.”