Chapter 36
The world around me fell silent. As the chasm’s light faded, my throat constricted. My chest ached; my heart hammered against my ribs. The backs of my eyes burned, and I closed them to hold back tears.
Fallon might act like a loner, pretending she cares only for herself.
Maybe we’ve carried our trauma in different ways—armor forged from pain.
But deep down, I know the truth. She cares—so fiercely about those around her that she has to protect herself the only way she knows: guarding her heart against heartbreak.
By loving people at a distance.
By only allowing herself to be loved at a distance.
When I thought my time was up in that shed, Fallon was the one who broke me free.
Even after I almost wasted her efforts and nearly got myself trampled, she woke me up—made me realize my life was worth saving.
She left Captain Thorne’s elemental documentation for me.
She burned down my cottage so I wouldn’t have anywhere else to go.
She helped me hold my mental gates when truth powder was used as a weapon against me.
She made sure I kept going.
She gave me a fighting chance.
She gave me the five words that carried me through: You are meant for more. She needed to look in a mirror and see the same truth—that she was meant for more in this life.
And now… I had to trust the one who had almost destroyed me to keep her safe. Shayde had better bring her back. He had to. I didn’t care whether the mission succeeded. I didn’t care if the world burned to ash around us.
I couldn’t lose her too.
I was braiding my damp hair when someone knocked on the door of my hut.
I cracked it open just enough to block the chill, only to find glowing gray-blue eyes staring back at me.
Rhodes stood ready for flight—winter leathers, fur-lined cloak over his arm, the hilt of his sword peeking over his shoulder.
After pulling myself together that morning, I’d walked back to the Hollow in silence.
The rest of the day blurred as we gathered orders from Arrow and prepared to leave by nightfall.
Word was Tyria’s invasion of Mageia might come sooner than expected, forcing Arrow to finally grant us flight clearance to the Shadow Glade.
As if I needed his permission. But the asshole had threatened my friends.
The fire elementals would fly with me to the Glade so I could question Ailis further about the journal, while the others remained behind. Cleo didn’t want to stay with Pehper, but Nash convinced her—with the promise of more time to share stories of Laney’s life before Mageia.
Once we uncovered more about the journals, we could decipher what their existence meant—and finally form a plan to protect the Mareki from Tyria before it was too late.
I opened the door wider and stepped aside. Rhodes’s presence filled the small space, but his attention didn’t leave me.
“I can’t sense her,” I murmured.
His stormy eyes flashed. “I can’t sense Shayde either,” he said, low. “But that portal… it was rare magic. I’m trying to believe it simply disrupted our marekem.”
It made enough sense for me to cling to it. I nodded, choosing to believe.
Rhodes drifted to the chest of drawers and ran a finger along the spines of the novels he’d given me when we first returned to the Hollow. His brow lifted as he looked back—dark hair falling into his eyes, the familiar warmth in his gaze reserved only for me. Heat crept into my cheeks.
“Have you not been reading?” he asked.
I shook my head and sank onto the foot of the bed. “It doesn’t feel fair… to Laney,” I admitted.
Rhodes shrugged off his satchel and set down his sword before settling beside me. The familiar scent of cashmere sandalwood and vanilla wrapped around me, pulling me closer. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and pretend everything was right in the world—but I fought the urge.
“I think she’d want you to finish it,” he said. “She was the one who got you started on it, wasn’t she?”
I swallowed and nodded.
Rhodes stretched his arm, his hand gliding across the sheets behind me. My eyes followed the movement, the memory of his arm around me pulling me back to the second time we had truly been together. I clenched my thighs.
“Don’t think of it as reading her favorite series without her…” His voice became low and somber. “Think of it as reading it for her.”
My chest tightened. I closed my eyes to hold back tears, but the sting built anyway. “I miss her,” I whispered.
“I know you do. But she’s not gone.” I shook my head, incredulous, and kept my eyes closed as he continued. “Delaney’s with you every day. In your heart. She’d be that stubborn friend who refuses to be forgotten.”
A quiet laugh escaped me as I wiped away a stray tear. “You’re right about that.”
“I’m right about a lot of things,” he said, smirking.
I huffed and shot him a look.
“And what have I been wrong about?” he teased.
I lifted a finger to my lips, pretending to think. “That I’m a thorn in your side.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You think I’m wrong about that?”
“You meant it as a bad thing. Like you couldn’t get rid of me.”
He opened his mouth to protest; I pressed a palm over his lips.
He kissed it.
I jerked back, startled.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely silenced”—he clicked his tongue, glancing at the ceiling—“you were, are, and will always be a thorn in my side.” His stormy eyes found mine again, crooked smile playing. “My prickly little thorn—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I gasped dramatically, turning to face him and lifting one knee until it rested against his chest. Rhodes wrapped an arm around my leg with ease, holding me there like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“I am not prickly,” I said, mock-offended.
This time his laugh was deep and unfiltered—the kind that echoed in my chest and made my smile impossible to hide. His arm tightened around my knee.
I flicked his nose, which only made him laugh harder. “See? Prickly,” he said between breaths.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I couldn’t fight the grin tugging at my lips. “You like it.”
He nodded once, voice softer now, gaze unwavering. “Yeah. I do.”
The air thickened as we sat there, nearly tangled. I cleared my throat and nodded toward the tomes resting atop my satchel.
“I have to admit… I’ve been avoiding looking through them.”
Rhodes followed my gaze and caught my meaning. “Why?”
A heavy sigh escaped as I rose and paced the small room, hands on my hips. He stood too, eyes tracking me with quiet concern.
“What are you so afraid of?” he asked gently, his voice brushing against my back like a breeze before a storm.
I spun around, throwing my hands into the air—but the words wouldn’t come. They clawed at my throat, screaming inside my head, yet refused to take shape. A sharp ache pulsed behind my eyes, my temples pounding with unspoken truth.
Rhodes must’ve sensed my internal war, because his hands found my shoulders. He bent his knees, dipping his head just enough to meet my gaze.
My voice came as a broken whisper. “Whatever is in those tomes… it could lead to the restoration of the Mareki.”
He straightened. I lifted my chin and held his stare.
“Isn’t that the objective?” he asked.
“Freeing the Mareki of its curse means I lose you, Rhodes,” I said, voice cracking. “If we can’t find a way around it… I lose you. And I’m afraid of that.”
Hot tears spilled; he caught them with his thumbs.
Unlike me, Rhodes didn’t waver. “What did you tell me that night in the forest—when I confessed everything about the curse?”
I rolled my eyes and tapped my boot, dodging his gaze. His hands stayed firm.
“You told me I’d better not dare give up,” he said, the words tight in his throat, almost a growl. He stepped closer. “And what did I tell you on the forest canopy in the Glade? Do you remember?”
The memory twisted in my chest. I was not good at this—at vulnerability, at letting people in. I searched for an excuse, for frustration to push him away.
But he cupped my face and leaned closer. “I told you the curse would have to pry me away from you, my thorn.”
My eyes shot to his. My defenses crumbled. My lips parted as he traced a finger along my bottom lip.
“And I meant it,” he said softly. “I may not have ancient tomes that reveal themselves only to me, but I’ve been searching.
Since the day you ordered me not to give up, I haven’t stopped.
” One hand slid to my waist. “I’ve had Noemi digging through every scrap of history she can find through other dragons.
I’ve spent hours buried in archives in both the Glade and the Hollow.
Scarlet—” He swallowed. “I even came clean to Shayde.”
My heart stopped.
“He’s been helping, too. Balveer shared stories—old Mareki myths passed down around campfires. We’re closer than you think. And I know you. You don’t give up. So why doubt yourself now?”
I pressed trembling hands to his chest, fingers curling. “I guess… because it’s starting to feel real. The idea of losing—”
His lips crashed into mine, stealing my words and breath.
When he pulled back, our noses were barely apart, his forehead almost brushing mine.
“I’m real, my thorn,” he whispered. “What I feel for you is real. I am yours. And this world will crumble in my fingers before I let it rip me from you.”
Our chests heaved in unison as he rested his forehead against mine, his hands cradling my face. I breathed him in, etching the moment into memory.
Then he pulled away. A rush of cold air struck where his touch had been, and I nearly gasped at the loss.
Without a word, Rhodes crossed the room in two long strides, crouched by his satchel, and rummaged through it. When he turned back, he cradled something carefully in his hands.
My knees nearly buckled at the sight of something so small and seemingly insignificant—yet immensely important to me. I leaned against the wall for support as Rhodes stepped closer, holding my favorite mug from Mageia’s brew station.
The pastel swirls still gleamed even in the dim light, and the faint dark cracks remained visible—scars where Rhodes had carefully glued it back together. Memories of Mageia rushed over me like a wave, and I trailed my fingers along its fractures.
“Nash helped me search for it while you and Fallon were in the Eternal Tomb,” he said softly. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to give it to you, but I haven’t really had you to myself since—”
“Shut up,” I said, grinning despite myself.
He grinned back, both dimples out. “I’ll take that as a compliment, my thorn.”
“Is that why Cleo mentioned she was growing coffee plants?” I asked, moving to the drawers.
“Caught me.”
I set the mug down gently and reached for the unlocked tome. “We still have time before we fly. How about I read the journal out loud while you piece together clues?”
Rhodes unzipped his winter jacket and let it fall, followed by his leather vest, a simple black tunic beneath. With easy, familiar motion, he pulled back the sheets and settled in.
“You may have to put those back on,” I said, eyeing him. “Otherwise I won’t be able to concentrate.”
He draped an arm along the headboard. “Don’t worry, my thorn. I won’t make a move—we don’t have enough time for me to worship you the way I want to. You know, I enjoy that little sound you make when you’re about to—”
I pounced, clamping a hand over his mouth before he could finish, and we both broke into uncontrollable laughter.
Curling into him, I nestled at his side as his arm wrapped around me. I propped the leather tome on my knees, flipped to the first page, and began to read.