Chapter 58
I was finishing sheathing my weapons when a knock came at the door.
I unlatched it and pulled it open. “Wylder. Aren’t you supposed to be in the skies by now?” I asked, slipping the last dagger into place.
“Leaving now,” he said, holding out a bow and quiver. “These were hanging on your door. But I wanted to check on something first.”
The gravity in his gray eyes told me this wasn’t a casual conversation. Whatever he needed to say—he didn’t want ears on it. I stepped aside, letting him in, and took the bow and quiver from him. I gave them a quick once-over as he spoke.
“Were you able to channel through your marekem what we learned from my mother in the Glade?”
I considered the question before nodding. “Yeah. I’m caught up.”
His gaze sharpened. “Are you sure? We won’t get another chance to talk once Tyria reaches Mageia. They’ll be looking for the Tomb and the full prophecy.”
My fingers traced the smooth curve of the bow. “Yes, Wylder. I have the entire prophecy committed to memory. Your mother sealed the only full record of it in her cellar—Tyria won’t be able to reach it. And you already know only Scarlet and I can enter the Tomb. It’s safe.”
Rhodes nodded, cracking his knuckles as he fiddled with his hands. He moved toward the door but stopped just short, turning back with a serious look. “Take care out there.”
Then I was alone in my hut again. I shook off the creeping apprehension of what was to come and lifted the bow and quiver into the light. The bow was made of dark wood—so deep it was nearly black. Its strength and design were unlike anything I’d ever seen. Either Balveer had upped his game or—
My eyes caught on the deep purple gems embedded along the curve.
I ran my fingers over them, awestruck by the craftsmanship.
The quiver matched in color, its leather smooth and sturdy, with small gems glinting along the outer rim.
It was full of freshly crafted arrows, and nestled among them, something wrapped in linen caught my eye.
I sat on the edge of my bed, resting the bow and quiver against the chest of drawers. With careful fingers, I unraveled the linen wrap. The last corner fell away, revealing a small folded note inside. I opened it slowly.
For when you need to remember who you are.
The note slipped from my fingers, drifting to the floor, forgotten the moment I saw what lay beneath it. My hands trembled as I reached for it.
It was the wolf mask Shayde had crafted for me—altered now, transformed.
No longer the full, imposing piece it once was, but a delicate sliver of its former self, about an inch wide.
The intricate metalwork still wove through its surface, and I gently traced the spots where the metal had been reforged, smoothed over like healed scars.
The original ribbon ties had been replaced with a sturdy strip of leather.
I held it up to the light spilling through my window, watching the surviving purple gems catch and reflect the glow.
The curve of its shape beckoned me, and I found myself leaping from the bed, heart fluttering as I crossed to the mirror.
I placed it at the crown of my head, just behind my hairline. It sat perfectly, as if it had always been meant to rest there. I reached back to tie the leather strap, threading it through my hair, braiding the strands before twisting them into a low bun at the nape of my neck.
In the reflection, I barely recognized the smile that bloomed across my face. The mask was no longer a mask. It was something new—reborn. A headpiece. A flattened tiara. Subtle, yet powerful.
Crafted for the moments I forget who I am.
“A queen,” I whispered.
The earth element buzzed with joy around us, despite the dead winter foliage. Still, I felt a spark of life stir in me as we crossed the plains. I rode just behind Father, with Nash at my side. His steed kept pace with River’s powerful stride, both animals clad in armor.
Nearly every soldier from Hollow Summit was now en route to Mageia, save for the forces Arrow ordered to stay behind after Tyria’s latest attack on our borders.
River and I moved closer to Nash so I could speak low. “I’ve been meaning to apologize.”
The surprise on his face made my stomach twist. I frowned.
“About?” he asked.
“Using you. That wasn’t fair.”
We rode in silence for a few paces before he finally broke it and said, “Ah. I’m fine with it, Fitzroy.”
His voice was flat, not the usual teasing warmth I’d come to expect. There was something hollow beneath the words, something I couldn’t ignore. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
“The love of my life was taken from me years ago,” he added quietly. “Since then, I’ve decided… being with someone again just isn’t in the cards. So if you’re in need of someone to use, I’m open to it.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“You lost someone?” I asked softly.
Nash nodded, jaw set, his features carved in quiet resolve. “It happened during a collision with Tyria. One moment she was in my arms. The next…” His voice dropped. “Her head was rolling at my feet.”
“I—I’m—” I stammered.
“Don’t,” he said. “Justice will come, in all its glory.”
His eyes—so hollow I could see straight into his soul—held mine. His entire face changed when he spoke of her, like grief had permanently carved itself into his expression.
“I can presume Shayde Wylder is the one you’re using me for,” he added, voice calmer now. His gaze flicked to the headpiece on my brow. “The one who gave you that. And the new bow.”
I didn’t deny it. Not after everything he’d just shared. “How’d you know?” I asked, staring down at my hands clenched tightly around River’s reins.
“Well, for one element—the way he looks at you. Like no one else on this planet exists. And the other? He kinda threatened me.”
My head snapped toward him, eyes widening.
Nash chuckled. “Yeah. After our… moment in your hut, he pulled me aside. Slammed me into a stone wall, actually. We almost ended up in a fight. But I stopped myself,” Nash went on. “Because he didn’t threaten me to stay away from you, Fitzroy. He threatened me not to hurt you.”
He studied me for a beat. I stared at him, heart pounding.
“Said you were the most magnificent person he’s ever met.
And I better remind you of it every damn day.
He said to let you be yourself, to walk your own way.
To never be one step ahead or behind, but always beside you.
Even on the days you say you hate me.” A small breath left his lungs, barely audible.
“Shayde said you’d make me the luckiest man alive if I loved you like that. ”
A familiar tingle of awe from River surged across my skin. Her ears flicked, and she glanced back at me with a knowing look before facing forward again. I sat frozen in the saddle, unable to think, let alone speak.
“So,” Nash said, “why are you using me to avoid him?”
My stomach twisted with guilt. “I’m not sure.”
We crested a hill, and the full sweep of our legion stretched behind us. My father, astride his silver wolf, turned to face the soldiers of the Hollow. Colonel Barrett rode up beside him, pulling him aside for a private word.
“I’m in your corner, Fitzroy,” Nash said quietly. “As long as he doesn’t hit me. I’ve seen that man fight—and I have no desire to be on the receiving end of it.”
A sharp pain shot through my chest like an arrow loosed at close range. I lurched forward, nearly toppling from the saddle. My lungs seized, refusing to take in air. A strangled cough tore from my throat as I clutched at River’s fur, barely hanging on.
Nash dismounted in a flash, his hands steadying me as he guided me upright. “Breathe,” he said low, urgent. “Come on, Fitzroy—breathe.”
I forced a shaky inhale just as my father turned. A ripple passed through the ranks—every eye fixed on me. The wind howled with tension, as if the earth itself waited for an answer. I ran a hand over the back of my neck, closed my eyes, and reached inward—channeling the marekem.
Then it hit me.
My eyes snapped open. The weight of it settled like a stone in my chest. I found my father in the crowd and steadied my voice.
“The Shadow Glade is burning.”