CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Verena
I HAD BARELY SLEPT THESE LAST FEW WEEKS.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the red pooling beneath Wells’ nose, saw the veins trembling under his skin. He might be okay pretending that he was fine, that it wasn’t consuming him the same way it did me—
But the curse didn’t care about pretending, it always collected what it was owed.
We had made it as far as the Feyglades, the lake we stumbled upon a desolate of solitude I had not been granted in almost a month.
My feet slid over moss-slick stone until the trees thinned into a small clearing that led to the still water. Their branches arched above, enveloping me into a green shade. Purple blossoms leaned toward the shallows, stretching for the rare light that slipped past the barricade of leaves.
The sun lifted in a halo, though softer here than home. The further I drifted from Csolenia’s rooted soil, the duller the brilliance seemed to become. Yet today, even muted, it was enough.
For a heartbeat, I was back in the Roux Forest, perched on my boulder of quiet reprieve.
Safe.
I never thought I would miss Csolenia. Never thought I’d ever leave either. But the absence was not yearning, only the ache of being pulled closer to something unknown. To answers I had always claimed to want.
Yet, here on the cusp, I found myself unready. Afraid of what the truth might demand of me.
My fingertips skimmed the water, grooves rippling across its surface. This was good. Difficult, yes. But good. The waves smoothed again, carrying my doubts along with them.
I lifted my shirt, casting it across a pile of rocks by the shore, leaving only a strip of linen bound across my chest. The water cooled as I sank my hand deep, collecting some in my palm and splashing it across my face.
Droplets trailed down the groove of my jaw, over the curve of my neck and across my chest.
Gods, what I would give for a real bath right now.
I still hadn’t fully washed the grime of the dungeon off. Elva had done her damned best, scrubbing me raw with her makeshift herbs and oils, determined to polish it all away. But the filth clung to me still.
I felt it everywhere. Buried deeper than skin.
A splash dripped down my shoulder blades, and I winced when it rushed over half-healed wounds. The water rippled again, and my head snapped to where they grew from.
Callum stood thirty feet away, shoulders bowed as he poured water over his head, streaks leaking down his muscled back.
But it wasn’t the strength that stole the breath from me. It was the damage.
His skin was shredded with thick scars, like claws had ripped across him in cruel patterns.
I wondered if that’s how mine looked.
Water licked around my shins as I stepped into the lake, gliding toward him. His head shot up, golden catching my sorrow, as I went to turn, to show him the same, unrelenting memories decorating my own flesh.
A funnel of flames roared between us before I could, spiraling into a wall that caged him away. Rejection noted, plain and brutal.
“Don’t take it personally.”
I twisted, caught off guard, to where Killian stood at the shoreline, shirt dangling off his shoulder, hair dripping as water still ran down his face.
“He did the same thing to me,” he said.
That didn’t soothe me at all. But the last soul I wanted to confide in about family issues was Killian Ramsay. I’m sure he had enough of his own trapped in that mind of his.
Never mind how since he had rescued me, ever since I had woken up, there had been a feeling tight inside me that I needed Killian nearby.
Not in a desirable way, but almost annoyingly important.
I didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust that he hadn’t done something while I was vulnerable that made me feel that way.
I made sure my mental shields were locked as securely as they could be.
Studded canines flashed as his mouth moved into a smile. “Ouch,” he added. His chin tilted toward the marred skin of my back, eyes tracing the scars there like a riddle he already knew the answer to. “Bet that isn’t a fun story.”
I stepped from the water, sleek stones threatening to drag me back under as I positioned myself on one of the bigger ones. “You know the story.”
With a single nod, his grin faltered, shoulders hunching forward like the image of how he found me pressed upon him still. “Do you wish to know mine?”
I hesitated. Everything in me wanted to say no, that I didn’t care about the pain and mourning he carried. That he deserved every awful thing he had withstood.
But my lips betrayed me, because I wasn’t sure that was true. “Sure.”
He turned and I could only stare. My stomach clenched, the despair so sharp it bordered on sickness.
Stumps.
Smooth, polished ivory bone, cruelly sawed down. All that remained of wings that had once cut through an empire suspended beyond reach.
His legacy had said he rose from ashes, cursed to be reborn again and again in mortal ruin. His ears revealed the lie, but it must have felt like mortality, that stripping. That fall. To be born conquering the sky in celestial grace, only to reawaken to a world all too grounded.
Even after that destruction, he didn’t let his rebirth decay. He had taken that collapse and worn it with dignity. Created a new name for himself, one that ran tremors of fear down every spine when they heard it.
The Phoenix felt more fitting.
I sucked in a breath as his shirt fell back into place, hiding the stumps, hiding what the world had stolen. Concealing the memory of who he once was.
“I’m sorry,” was all I could say.
Easing himself onto the rock beside me, he arched his neck, the light catching the movement, beaming on a small mark inked behind his ear.
“Don’t feel bad.” He leaned back on his palms. The shift drew every line of muscle taut against his arms. Strength flexed beneath his skin, tendons jutting like cords pulled too tight. “Took a while to get used to. But I found a greater purpose for myself.”
I arched a brow, plucking a cluster of berries from the bush at my side. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
He only winked, the answer locked behind his grin as his hand shot out, slapping the berries from my grip. “Don’t eat those.”
I scowled, hunger gnawing greedily at my ribs.
His hand lingered, outstretched between us. “Come on,” he said, the invitation patient and gleaming with lake light. “I have a better idea.”
The humidity this far south was thick with damp heat, even with the subtle temperature drop at night. I sank back on my elbows, distancing myself from the campfire as it burned low, my chin tipping toward the boundless night.
The arc of moonlight was centered high above, rivers of blue marbling across its glow. The godstars kept vigil, scattered around it in shimmering fragments.
My eyes drifted in between sleep and reality as I let myself breathe in the air of a new night.
Sadly, Ford’s incessant snoring kept me from drifting too far. Sleep had stopped coming easy to everyone, though he seemed to have no trouble curled up by the fire like Elva’s damn cat.
Wells sat quieter than usual. The blood no longer trickled, but I could see its stain, even if the others couldn’t. He smiled when Elva joked beside him, but it was small, a flicker, nothing more.
He rose swiftly after, stating how he was going to try to get a few hours of sleep before dawn.
I turned, meeting Elva’s eyes for a moment, returning the soft smile she lent me. Maybe she saw it too, what was happening to Wells. She kissed my cheek once before standing and disappearing into her own tent.
Ronan stretched his wings wide, shadows fanning across the clearing.
Even after nearly a month of traveling with him it was impossible not to stare. They were not only magnificent but terrifying. And had only come out at night. Darkness curved with the stretch of bone, but in the flame, membranes shone with hints of emerald.
Elysian sat far back in his shadows, as if the warmth would melt him entirely.
Wouldn’t surprise me.
His eyes were closed as he sat perched against a tree facing into the forest, but I knew he was awake. Every now and then white fur would appear across his neck or fingers, and he would subtly brush it away.
Forcing my mind to stay awake, I looked to Ronan. “I think I’ve finally figured out what your wings remind me of.”
He glanced at me before looking back into the flames. “What’s that?”
“What’s that small lizard called—” My hands flapped uselessly at my sides. “With the wings?”
He squinted at me, unimpressed. “You mean a Kaida?”
I clicked my tongue. “No. A lizard with wings.” My arms kept flapping, as if the ridiculous gesture might summon the memory of its damn name.
That earned me another glance. Elysian wasn’t watching the forest anymore, he was listening, head tilted slightly toward us, fingers tracing the blade of his dagger.
“That’s not a thing,” Ronan argued.
Ford’s snicker broke it apart, his face a pout of discomfort as he rubbed at his back. He had convinced himself the hour of sleep he got was enough, insisting he was good to take watch with Ronan, Elysian, and I.
He had fallen back asleep multiple times.
The last time, Ronan had elbowed him awake so aggressively, I think it startled him enough to shake the sleepy feeling for a while.
“I’m telling you it is.” I exhaled, fighting back my own tug of sleep.
Ronan’s expression was unreadable, per usual, but the way his jaw ticked, the way the vein across his forehead pulsed against the curl that laid against it, something was bothering him.
Ford snapped his fingers triumphantly. “Nyctom! They’re from Nyctom. Remember the teacher from the lesson...gods, what was her name? Seven feet tall, hair to her toes—”
“Yes!” I broke into giggles at the memory. “Though, I don’t think that’s where I learned about them.’”
“So,” Ronan chimed in. “I remind you of a small lizard?”
Elysian got up then, pacing the line of trees.
My yawn cracked the moment, and I leaned back to the forest floor, counting the stars to keep myself from slipping. “Yes.”