Chapter 34
The Shadow of Your Love
MAX
The tavern room is barely more than a box. It’s made of four pale plank walls, a low ceiling, and a narrow bed tucked in the corner. The mattress is thin, stuffed with uneven straw, but the ticking is clean, and the seams are still tight. A fresh sheet and folded duvet lay neatly on top.
I close the door behind me and take it all in. It’s bare necessities only, but a welcome reprieve. After today, this place feels like an oasis. Small and safe and ours.
A desk-like table stands beneath the window, holding a basin of water, a few folded rags, and a bar of soap. A dented bucket waits by the door.
“Not as fancy or romantic as a man would hope, but hey, it’s our first weekend away together,” E jokes, the floorboards creaking under his weight.
“Lucky for you, I’m low maintenance,” I answer, setting my backpack down underneath the table.
The floor is clean, and the wood hasn’t darkened yet, showing no signs of wear and tear. This tavern was built recently for a specific purpose. It’s clearly a place for travelers to pass through, but not to stay long-term.
Warm air slips in through the narrow cracks between the planks, carrying the scent of wet leaves and crushed grass.
Outside the checkered window, a handful of tents housing the Tidecallers are visible. Clothing lines hang on the opposite side of small campfires, and the sight takes me back to the Red Forest, to witches’ huts with crooked beams and dirt floors, where luxury was scarce, but comfort was paramount.
I set down a bowl of water and half a cup of food for Lady, who slips out of the carrier with a curious meow.
She makes a slow circuit of the room, sniffing the corners, before claiming the windowsill, her tail flicking in judgment as she watches the Tidecallers below.
My mouth is dry, my nerves playing harp strings through my gut.
I remember vividly what happened this morning, and as much as it unsettles me, I’m already breathless, flushed, and aching at the thought of spending the night alone in a room with my ghost. But no matter how intoxicating his touch is, how easily he unravels me, I need a clear head.
The visions brought on by the venom raised too many questions.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. “There’s something we need to discuss before—”
“Before I kiss you senseless?” E rasps, and a nervous laugh slips out of me.
“Yes.”
Come on, focus. “Is it possible— Did you know my mother?”
I stare at the place his eyes should be. I’d give anything to see them. Anything. If I could see his eyes, I’m sure I could read the truth in them, whether he remembers it or not.
The silence stretches.
“You know I can’t recall any details of my life,” he finally answers.
Guilt pinches at my insides. I’m not saying he’s lying, but this matters, and it’s one more instance where his amnesia becomes annoying as fuck.
“I know. But instinctively?”
“What brought this on?” he asks quietly.
“A dream,” I mutter. “A series of vivid, messed-up dreams. And today, the venom…” I swallow hard. “I think I saw you…having sex with my mother.”
There. I said it. Ew.
“What?” he chokes out, properly horrified, which does bring me a sliver of relief.
“No. I would never—” He cuts himself off, like he’s just remembered that he doesn’t know what he would or wouldn’t have done. “You don’t think I’m your—”
“No. No, no, no.” I shake my head with a sour grimace, my gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this. But you can’t be my father. I have no Bloodsinger blood, remember? So it’s actually impossible for us to be closely related.”
Silver fucking linings.
“Hey.” He closes his hands around mine. “I want you to tell me everything. The visions, the dreams, all of it. We’ll figure it out together, alright?”
He pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping tight around me, solid and careful all at once. He doesn’t push it further. Just holds me.
“Alright,” I squeak.
Well. That revelation definitely killed our this-is-moving-too-fast problem. He’s not in the mood to kiss me senseless anymore, and my heart gives a regretful squeeze.
“There’s this man who comes to me in the Dreaming almost every night.”
“What man?” His fingertips dig into my back, but he keeps his voice smooth as he asks, “Who is he?”
I take an awkward step back. “I think he’s you, actually.”
“You think? Or you know? What does he want? Do you spend all night talking, or—” E cuts himself off again. “Never mind. I’m so fucking jealous of him,” he admits on a growl.
“He’s jealous of you, too.” A small smile curls my lips. “But I think he’s you because he calls me little fox, and with him, I feel safe.”
His voice drops an octave. “Keep saying things like that.”
“I thought I was reliving parts of my past, but if I’m right, it means I might have met you as a kid and forgotten about it. This man with my mother has your hair. And your wings.” My eyes dart down. “So unless you’ve got a twin…”
It’s entirely possible E knew my mother. Maybe he didn’t sell her out to the Reds. Maybe they were in love, and he died before she did.
What a scary thought.
“It’s not me.” His tone hardens, like he’s certain of that much.“You’re not old enough for me to have known you before I died. I haunted Mabel through the eighties, remember?”
I nod emphatically, grateful for the lifeline. “By the Dark One, I forgot! You were already dead when I was a child.”
I exhale in relief, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
“Tell me more about him,” he presses on.
The implication that someone else has become my dream lover clearly doesn’t sit any better with him, but I can’t stop smiling.
“After I get these weird visions of my past, I end up on this cloudy, beautiful cliff where he makes love to me…” Heat crawls up my neck. “I can never see his face clearly in either scenario. Ugh, it’s so confusing.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about him before?” he asks, a hint of disappointment sharpening his tone.
I sit on the twin bed, and he sits beside me, the straw-stuffed mattress rustling softly beneath our combined weight.
“The dreams and visions have become more vivid over the last couple of nights. And the venom shook something loose in my head.” I hesitate, caressing the thin duvet cover, surprised to find it soft and pliable.
“I didn’t like how that dark Fae was looking at you, earlier.
Luther, was it?” he asks, as though identifying the man in my dreams comes second to getting me out of harm’s way.
“You’re still weak from the bite. What if the Lord of the Tides turns out to be a world-class fucker?
There’s still time to change your mind about going with them tomorrow. ”
He obviously hates the idea of me joining the Tidecallers in an attack, but we didn’t come to Faerie to hide.
I grip the edge of the mattress with both hands. “Luther said a group of witches was in imminent danger. Nick won’t be convinced to stay out of it, and if he’s going, I’m going with him.”
“What happened with your mother?” E asks softly. “Why is Nick holding something over you? Do you feel responsible for her death?”
“Oh, no.” I chew on my bottom lip. “My mother was killed in a raid planned by the Reds. There wasn’t anything we could do. Nick… Nick was talking about Riley.”
I grimace just saying the name.
“Was Riley your boyfriend?” E asks. “When you told me about stopping painting and not finishing the King of Wands, I got the sense you might have been…thwarted in love.”
My brows rise. “Oh, I was betrayed, alright, but not by a man.”
I stare through the window, where night is settling over the rebel camp and oil lamps flicker to life between the tents.
“Riley was a girl I met at university. Keep in mind, Nick begrudged me for even going. He was obsessed with traveling the world. He said he wanted to save witches, but really, he was running away from Mabel, so he could find our mother’s killer without her getting involved.”
My eyes dart to the ceiling, and I clear my throat.
“Anyway, he bolted right after high school, and that really gutted me. I met Riley at orientation. We were two eighteen-year-olds fresh out of secondary school, suddenly attending this illustrious institution. She was an orphan, too, and she told me she’d been living alone since she was sixteen because her stepfather had abused her. ”
A bitter laugh escapes me.
“She twisted her words carefully, feeding me that tragic backstory little by little, just enough to gain my trust. She made me work for it, too, so I never suspected anything. She presented herself as someone who worked better alone, someone guarded and difficult to get close to.”
My throat bobs.
“She made it feel like I was the one doing the pushing. Like I was the one choosing her.”
I stare at my hands.
“And all the while, she was weaseling and prodding her way into my heart until she became my best friend. I couldn’t tell her the truth about my past, obviously, or about Nick and me being twins.
But I mentioned I had a foster brother and complained about Mabel and her strict rules.
I was so alone out there, away from home—from Nick—for the first time. I was desperate.”
E links our fingers softly.
If anyone understands exactly how much loneliness can hurt, it’s him.
“We became inseparable, so much so that we had plans to move in together for our second year, and I invited her home for the summer break.”
He rests our joined hands in his lap. “To meet your family?”
I nod. “Mabel had reluctantly agreed. Riley had become my first real friend. For the first time in my life, I felt young. Normal. My life was a series of coffee runs before lectures, studying in the park, Riley reading flash cards to me while I painted. We took long walks on the trails, gossiping about boys and sexual fantasies…”
“And you loved her.”
“I did.” I swallow hard.
“Were you two involved?”
“Not like that,” I say quickly. “But I admit, I did flirt with the possibility. Our friendship became so intense, so symbiotic, I couldn’t imagine life without her.”