Chapter 22
Maybe I’d just sleep outside.
“Can I bunk with you?” I asked Lakota, not caring how much it sounded like begging.
“I’d rather tune in to your dramatic situation. Goodnight, human.”
“I hope you get a thorn in your side tonight!”
He huffed in response.
Fallon didn’t bother to ask if I needed the washroom first—she shut the door behind us and went straight in. I heard water run for a moment before I fell backward onto the thin mattress, arms stretched wide.
Then Fallon cursed.
I pushed up onto my elbows. “Everything okay?”
Her voice came muffled through the wooden door. “Their running water is barely lukewarm.”
“Aren’t you a water wielder?”
“I channel water, not its temperature!”
I couldn’t help but grin at the frustration in her voice. It sounded like she was ripping off her leathers and dramatically throwing them onto the floor.
Her head suddenly poked out the door. “Can you heat it up for me with your fire element?”
I sat up fully, surprised—and quietly admiring the first time my twin sister had ever asked for my help. I nodded, casual.
She waited for me to speak. Her eyes narrowed a fraction when she realized I wasn’t going to say anything. “Can you come in here and do that for me, then?”
“Say please.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she grumbled, dripping with dramatic flair.
I shrugged. “Your bath water’s only getting colder the longer you wait.”
Her jaw clenched so tight I was surprised it didn’t snap. Through her teeth: “Please.”
I raised a finger to my chin, pretending to mull it over. “Actually… remember that cold bath you drew for me? You know, after you tossed me on the floor from the bed?”
Her eyes flared with anger.
“So, no. I’ll pass,” I said, smug.
Fallon slammed the door.
Now I knew why I was such a light sleeper—my twin had taken all the qualities needed to sleep like a rock. Our room held only a single full-sized bed, and Fallon was currently hogging most of it.
My feet dangled off the edge.
Resigned to a sleepless night, I stumbled out of bed to explore.
Just as I was about to leave, I turned back and snatched the thin quilt from my sister to wrap around myself.
She didn’t even stir. I slipped on my boots—abandoning any attempt at quiet—and eased out of the room.
I crept downstairs and stepped into the cool night air.
“What in the elements are you doing up?” Lakota’s voice rumbled groggily from the shadows.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Well, now I can’t either. Don’t do anything rash—I’m comfortable right here.”
The night was still, the wind brisk against my skin. Each breath escaped in soft clouds as I wandered toward the center of Crossroads, eyes scanning rooftops silhouetted against the moon.
“Aha,” I whispered, spotting what I’d been looking for.
I walked around the inn, inspecting the outer walls. The inn had a flat roof—a detail I hadn’t noticed—while the other four buildings sported triangular roofs. There had to be a way up; I hadn’t seen any extra stairs inside.
Disappointment settled as I circled the building, nearing the last corner. Then, to my surprise, a tall dumpster leaned against the brick wall, positioned beneath a windowsill, with a metal gutter hanging a few feet above it.
“Doom simulator,” I whispered in disbelief.
I rolled the quilt off my shoulders to free my arms and legs, then climbed onto the dumpster. The thud of my boots on metal was louder than I wanted; hopefully no one would catch me skulking outside in the dead of night. Who’d believe I was a guest of the inn, sneaking around like this?
There was only a couple of feet between me and the windowsill above.
I jumped, channeling air to lift me higher so I could grasp the windowsill and haul myself up.
The curtains were drawn, but I quickly did the math in my head and realized this had to be the window for Nash and Rhodes’s room.
Stretching my arm out as far as I could, I was still a few inches shy of the gutter.
I steadied myself, then jumped for it, climbing the wall using every crevice I could find.
I pulled myself over the top, rolling my weight ungracefully while still wrapped in the quilt. After regaining my balance, I locked eyes with the thunderous storm I couldn’t seem to escape.
“Nice move,” Rhodes drawled.
I shook off the embarrassment of how ridiculous I must’ve looked. He leaned against the chimney; I plopped down beside him.
“Didn’t know you’d be here,” I said without looking at him, though I felt his gaze burning.
“I told you I always look for a rooftop wherever I go,” he exhaled. “You know, that evening you were drinking coffee way too late?”
My jaw dropped at the tease. I nudged his shoulder. “It was not too late. I’m surprised you even remember that.”
“It’s hard to forget anything about you.”
My cheeks heated from the warmth of his voice. I bit my lip and looked away. “You don’t mean that.”
His fingers gently grasped my chin, turning my face to meet his stormy eyes. “I may not mean much to this world, but I mean everything I say. Everything I do when it comes to you.”
My voice caught in my throat. “Rhodes.”
“Please—please just let me adore you. You can go back to hating me in the morning.”
He grinned when I stayed quiet. That damned dimple appeared like it had every right to be there.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry I kept the truth from you.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, Scarlet.
I’ve never trusted myself. All I’ve ever known is survival until the Mareki claims its curse.
My soul is tethered to a magical realm that’s meant to fall.
So I never allowed myself to live. To love. ”
His thumb caught a tear slipping down my cheek. His hand trembled, as if touching me might be the thing that finally undid him.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
My breath hitched, and for a moment the world went still. Thoughts crashed over me, each one threatening to drag me under. Part of me wanted to pull away—to hate him, to damn him for his choices. But the rest of me screamed to hold on. To fight fate. To win.
Instead of spilling my heart, I deflected. His grip softened; I turned away.
“An emotionally devastating ending,” I murmured.
“Hmm?”
“The curse and the wraith.” I gave a hollow laugh. “We were never meant to be, were we?”
Rhodes let out a low chuckle edged with irony, trying to lighten the truth between us. “Ah, a forbidden love. My favorite kind of story.”
I nudged his shoulder. “I could never hate you.”
His smile curved, not quite reaching his eyes. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me until you become my damnation.”
“I will be no such thing,” I said, steadier than I felt.
Rhodes lifted his arm and drew me against him. I went rigid at first, startled by his sudden boldness, but his warmth seeped in until the tension drained away. I melted into him, savoring the quiet sense of safety his embrace carried.
He tilted his head back to the star-swept sky and whispered, “Please… just let me hold you.”
We stayed like that, wrapped in a silence so full it felt like both forever and not nearly enough. Night insects and the faint rustle of leaves wove a soft, natural lullaby. When he first pulled me close, my heart raced. Now, our heartbeats settled into the same steady rhythm.
“Why rooftops?” I murmured, my head still on his chest. “Everywhere you go?”
His arms tightened briefly, then loosened.
“Because when I see the world at face value, it’s…
suffocating.” His voice dropped to a rasp.
“From the moment I learned my fate, I’ve been hollow.
Knowing you’re nothing more than magic’s last-ditch effort isn’t exactly comforting.
Whether magic is saved or lost forever, the realm will fall either way—taking me with it.
I’ve been living like a man already dead. ”
I shifted, searching his glossy gray-blue eyes. He held my gaze for a beat before turning away.
“But from up here? I can breathe. The weight’s still there, but lighter—almost bearable.
Same when I’m flying. I’ve thought more times than I can count about asking Noemi to risk a flight over the Wanderer’s Sea, just for a chance to escape my fate.
” His stormy eyes found mine again, a faint curve tugging at his mouth.
“But that would be a coward’s mission. And besides…
” His voice softened, almost a dare. “I’ve got a thorn in my side keeping me here now. ”
He smirked at his own jest—an attempt to lighten the mood that fell flat. My silence must’ve said as much, because the smirk faded, replaced by something steadier: resolve.
“So,” he said quietly, “remember when I told you I’d take all you’ve got? Looks like I meant it more than I knew. Turns out… you’ll be the one taking what’s left of me.”