Chapter 26 #2
Nick’s face wrinkles. “So you’re not naked under there? How does that work?”
E’s voice hums with amusement. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“Och, that’s a relief. But you carrying the spindle is out of the question.” Nick blinks one too many times, suspicion flashing across his face before practicality wins out. “Alright. We leave it here, then.”
I pump my fist. “Yes.”
The tension ebbs as we dig through our overstuffed bags for paintbrushes.
Nick and I repaint the protective wards over the old ones, layering fresh lines of blood in steady strokes until the symbols thrum faintly beneath the wood.
The crate is then secured into its hiding place, and I press my palm to the pantry door for a moment, feeling the magic seal click into place.
Afterwards, we gather our bags and set off for our adventure. Nick fastens E’s lantern to his backpack now that he doesn't have to carry the crate, which frees my hands.
The forest swallows the small cabin the moment we turn the bend in the creek, as though it never existed at all. Our greatest leverage is now hidden where only Bloodraven witches can reach it, far from the Mist King’s grasp.
A smile tugs at my lips.
Max: One. Nick: Zero.
“You did that on purpose,” I whisper to E.
“What?” he whispers back.
“You suggested taking the spindle so Nick would change his mind and agree with me.”
He pauses for a breath. “I might have discerned that he would dislike the idea of me touching it more than the idea of leaving it behind.”
A soft chuckle escapes him, and a big grin threatens to show on my face.
I nudge him with my hip. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The path ahead dips toward a larger river, the breeze carrying a metallic aftertaste.
Sunlight pours through the canopy in molten ribbons, igniting the leaves overhead in tones of amber and garnet and bruised gold.
The trees are impossibly tall, their trunks the deep, dark color of old wine.
The bark of the tallest, oldest-looking tree peels in thin curls, revealing patches of sap that have long since coagulated beneath—scars from old fights, remnants of a violent past that never quite healed.
If we were to encounter a Red patrol here, we’d either be killed on the spot or dragged in chains to the capital.
“What were you talking about yesterday? When you said something only happened once, and that Nick should stop holding it over you?” E asks.
His breath stirs the fine hairs behind the shell of my ear. He’s so close, so…solid.
I avert my gaze, even though I can’t see him. “Oh… That’s a long story.”
“We have a long walk ahead.”
He says it lightly, but the nearness of him feels anything but casual. I’m still not used to the way his shoulder brushes mine, to the subtle shift of his weight over uneven ground.
The upper branches of the canopy curl in the wind, and my cheeks flush. “I can’t speak of it. Not now.”
He grazes my shoulder. “Here, since I have a body now, let me at least carry your bag.”
I grip the straps of my backpack and sidestep away from him. “I’m okay.”
“As you wish,” he says, and the sting of rejection echoes in every syllable.
To be honest, I’m not sure why I refused. Maybe out of pride, because I’m perfectly capable of carrying my own backpack. Maybe out of fear that it would tire him and make him vanish again. Who knows? My heart is all knots, too complicated to untangle.
I don’t want to admit that I once fell for a Red’s tricks, too.
That the only true friendship I made growing up—the only person aside from my family who ever saw the real me—turned out to be one of them.
Just like Lillivere. That the betrayal still burns, even though I never speak of it. Never let myself think of it.
I don’t want him to know I almost single-handedly brought doom upon my entire coven because I was tired of feeling lonely.
The forest leans inward as we walk, branches knitting overhead.
“So,” I murmur, keeping my voice low because everything feels amplified here. “Does being in Faerie bring back any memories?”
“Not memories, no, but there’s something about this place,” he croaks.
“Do you think you’ve ever come here before?”
“Here in Faerie, you mean?” he gives a sharp nod. “Yes.”
The certainty in that single word unsettles me more than it should.
“Careful, or I’m going to start teasing you about those instincts of yours. You sound awfully confident for a ghost with amnesia.”
His warm hand finds the small of my back below the backpack. “And only getting more confident by the minute.”
It’s not the warmth of his touch that unravels me, but the weight of it. The pressure of his hand is firm and intentional. His fingers slip under the elastic band of my stretchy pants, and heat spreads outward from the contact.
I tilt my head, forcing my voice to sound unbothered. “Should I be worried?”
“Only if you mind my company,” he answers without hesitation. We walk in silence for a few minutes before he adds, “I have this strange intuition. That this place remembers me more than I remember myself.”
“For me, it felt like coming home after a long voyage,” I admit, my voice thinner now. “Like the land was greeting me back to my rightful place. Did you feel any of that?”
“No.”
The word is flat. Final.
The longing in my blood pulses with every step we take, threaded with anger and want and the unfairness of it all—of him being able to touch me now, when he’s probably already inextricably bound to someone else. I can’t help but fear he might regret his feelings for me when the truth comes out.
The image of his hypothetical wife crowds my thoughts. A woman might be waiting for him somewhere beyond those mountains. A strong, beautiful Fae princess. Someone who once stood beside him, and who may be linked to him forever in ways I don’t understand.
Boasting a title I could never wear.
Ruling a kingdom that could never be mine.
Or worse—caring for a family that still mourns him.
The thought slices clean through me, and I shudder. E’s hand moves across my back, meant to soothe, but the reassuring touch only sets my blood ablaze.
Nick shoots us a look over his shoulder. “Are you two done whispering?”
I lift my palm innocently.
E’s hand slips inside my back pocket—deliberate, grounding, impossible to misread.
My pulse swirls, heat pooling low in my belly. My body doesn’t care about hypothetical crowns or wives. It doesn’t care about mistakes and consequences. It only responds to the new reality of him, to the way he touches me like I’m his welcome-home present.
Ahead, the trees thin as the river snakes around a small, barren island.
In the distance, the Solar Cliffs rise to the west. The impressive mountain range stretches high and uneven, its upper reaches swallowed by a heavy crown of clouds that hides how tall it is.
“Wow. How far do you think they go?” I say, mesmerized by the beauty in front of me.
E removes his hand from my pocket, and the loss is immediate. I press my lips together to stifle my sigh.
“What do they say?” he muses. “That you can never go home again?” He pauses for a breath.
“Whatever home I had here,” he continues, “it’s not waiting for me.
And I’m not the one who left. I won’t be going back to the same place, or with the same mind.
And I’m not just talking about memories and amnesia.
Decades go by. The land changes. You change.
Irrevocably. So you can’t pick things up where you left off, and yet it’s not a clean slate either… ”
I hear the fracture in his voice, along with the jealousies and insecurities I pretend not to feel.