Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five
Stellen
Thyra is breaking me and she doesn’t know it.
With the lightest touch. The softest words. The power of a song she doesn’t even know she’s singing, radiating from her body with every thud of her heart.
I thought that coming so close to my family’s gravestone would threaten my control and send me spiraling back into darkness, but Thyra stood between me and that sharp edge, pulling me away from it.
Only to bind me closer to her.
Now, we travel silently back to the palace with the final rays of daylight shining ahead of us in the west.
Nara picks up her pace, since we don’t want to get caught in a snowstorm, but as we approach the city, I face a dilemma.
To signal the city or not?
Another glance at the sky tells me an ice storm is brewing, and it’s building quickly. We can’t risk delays.
I raise my hand and Thyra doesn’t try to stop me when I release my power into the sky, sending first one, then another spear of ice spiraling into the air. Finally, the orb that will crash into them.
The explosion cascades across the sky, brilliant snowflakes catching the final glimmers of sunlight.
Just as well to send the population indoors. In the distance, snow billows and a wall of frost quickly approaches.
This snowstorm is sudden and sharp. Not unprecedented. But the damage it will unleash can’t be underestimated.
We need to get inside. Now.
“Hurry, Nara.”
Her speed is already doubling.
Where she sits in front of me, Thyra leans as low as she can, positioning herself neatly in the space between the two satchels Nara’s now carrying.
We race through the first gate and along the empty main path. I’m pleased to see the soldiers on the wall stay only long enough to shut the gate before taking shelter.
Through the second gate we charge, where only a few stragglers are still in the process of retreating from the storm.
Finally, we race through the third gate.
To my surprise, Juniper waits within the tunnel of the portcullis, visibly shivering in the plummeting temperature.
“Juniper!” I fight my rising voice as Nara skids to a stop beside her. “Get indoors.”
Juniper nods vigorously, but I don’t miss the stubborn set of her jaw. Through chattering teeth, she replies, “I wanted to be sure you’d bring the Oracle to the north wing tonight.”
I scowl at her. “Is that so important you’d risk freezing to death?”
She tips her chin. “Yes, Lord.”
Thyra twists in her seat, demanding my focus. “North wing?”
“A place without so many bad memories,” I say.
“Take me there.” Thyra glances at the snow swelling across the other end of the tunnel. “And quickly.”
Without wasting another second, I jump to the ground and snatch Juniper off her feet.
“Up.” My command is drowned out by her shriek as I hoist her onto Nara’s back behind Thyra. “I’ll run alongside.”
Thyra gives me a firm nod, reaching back to steady Juniper, whom I’m certain is now shaking from shock rather than cold.
With a suddenness that snaps my attention upward, the sky outside this short tunnel turns dark. I’m certain the soldiers controlling the gate will have abandoned their posts and so they should.
The wall of ice is moving even faster than I anticipated and it’s nearly upon us. “Go!”
I keep pace, my arms and legs pumping as Nara shoots forward, racing along the path ahead, heading this time toward the stone building at the center of the inner circle—and then to the left, where the nearest entry is located.
I would have preferred not to travel through the inner palace, but Thyra and Juniper need to seek shelter immediately.
As Nara surges ahead of me, it seems Thyra has spied the door by which we need to enter.
My jaw drops when she swings herself around on Nara’s back, plucks Juniper into her arms, and leaps with her to the ground, moving so fast that she slides into the door, turning to take the impact on her left side.
A heartbeat later, I collide with the door beside her, lift the latch, and allow the two women to tumble inside.
Nara’s growl tells me she’s relieved we made it—and content to stay outside.
I take the swiftest moment to unstrap the two satchels, releasing Nara from their burden before I dart inside and close the door.
A second later, the storm hits.
Shrieking wind pierces my hearing, although I’m certain it will sound far more muted to Thyra and Juniper.
The older woman sways on the spot where Thyra has released her.
“Well.” Juniper draws herself upright. “That was exciting.”
The concern on Thyra’s face vanishes. A smile breaks. “A little too exciting.”
Juniper returns her grin. “You must be hungry. Get settled in the north wing. Stellen will show you the way. I’ll bring you both dinner.”
Stellen. It’s been a long time since any Frost Fae called me by my first name. I don’t mind it.
As Juniper hurries away, I’m forced to register our surroundings. Walls I haven’t stepped foot inside for a long time.
Somehow…they aren’t so difficult to face anymore.
“This way,” I say, and Thyra follows me.
I take the most circuitous route that will avoid going near the throne room, sticking to the outer hallways and corridors, passing by ornately decorated rooms, heading northward until we come to a wide, wooden door, carved with snowflakes.
Last night, Juniper told me that she and the other staff members had made a place for Thyra here.
I’m not sure what to expect, certain only that it’s quiet behind this door.
When we step inside, Thyra’s gasp could drown me.
A high ceiling soars over us, painted with glistening snowflakes that nearly twinkle like stars in a deep-blue sky.
On the right-hand side of the room, living vines meander across the entire wall, growing from a long, narrow pot that extends along the entire length of the floor. The greenery appears to intertwine with the snowflakes painted on the wall behind them so they could almost be dusted white.
A heating element has been constructed to the left of the room, not exactly perfectly placed, but the elements are always at the whim of the twists and turns of the underground hot springs.
Furniture rests around the room, simple but comfortable, chairs positioned near the heating element, along with a bookcase. A dining table with more chairs sits nearer to the vines.
In the opposite wall are two doors.
Two separate bedrooms.
“Oh, this is…” Thyra turns around as she proceeds into the room, seemingly trying to take it all in at once. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
I wasn’t expecting Thyra.
Antony called her his hope.
For me, she is a terrible destruction.
I incline my head toward the bedrooms, both painted a soft, cream color. “You can choose.”
She gives me small smile. “I’ll wash up.”
Moving across to the bedroom on the left, she disappears through its adjoining door to the bathing room beyond.
I deposit the two satchels on the table before I start pulling out scrolls, preparing to lay them out for Thyra, but already, footfalls sound in the distance.
Judging by the delicious smells wafting beneath the main door, Juniper’s on her way back with food. She must have had the staff ready to serve it.
The scrolls will have to wait.
Returning the parchments to the satchel, I nestle the bag on one of the chairs before I step into the bathing room to wash up.
I’m conscious of Juniper moving through the main door at the same time that Thyra’s footfalls sound, exiting her bedroom.
Within moments, their quiet voices reach me, along with the soft clattering of dishes.
“Juniper, this is too much,” Thyra says, catching her breath. “Take some back with you.”
“Nonsense,” Juniper fusses. “It’s been too long since we served a meal in the inner palace.”
“Well, the bread you make is like a gift from the Goddess,” Thyra says, and I picture her inhaling deeply as she breaks the crust. “It’s sustained me ever since I got here.”
“My special recipe.” Juniper’s reply is bright. “The flour we make from tubers doesn’t rise easily, but I found a way.”
There’s a pause, and Thyra asks, “May I thank you? Or would that be insulting?”
Juniper sighs. “I’m not sure when expressing gratitude became dangerous in this kingdom, but it was well before Lord Stellen’s time. He inherited a throne riddled with corruption and brutality. As long as fae have the capacity for hatred, I fear cruelty will persist.”
Thyra’s silence is pensive. “Stellen said your family worked in the palace for generations.”
“I was born into this work, but I was lucky to serve his mother, Sineria. She was a kind soul. Far too gentle for a man like Stellen’s father.”
There’s no hint of a question in Thyra’s voice when she says, “Stellen’s father was cruel.”
Juniper’s response is now strained. “Cruel is a generous description for that twisted man.”
There’s a soft scuffle, as if one of them were moving suddenly forward—Juniper, judging by the way her tone becomes urgent. “Oracle, you have no reason to listen to me. I’m an old lady with scars of my own, sorrows I still carry, but it’s important that you know—”
I’ve made it to the sink and now my hands wrap around the edge of the basin.
I’m fully prepared for Juniper to tell Thyra what I have not spoken aloud.
A truth that, for some reason, Lilis hasn’t mentioned in any of Thyra’s training sessions.
My greatest silence.
The one that matters.
The silence that is most dangerous to Thyra.
But Juniper says, “Lord Stellen will tell you he is heartless. He will tell you he is callous and unfeeling. But he is, at the soul of him, the opposite of what he says.”
My eyes fly wide.
I should be grateful, but a weight settles around my shoulders.
Before today, I didn’t worry about the things Thyra might hear about me. I barely cared how or when she discovered the horrors I perpetrated in the past. But today, Thyra peeled back her shields—and mine.
And now, it matters.
The blood I shed… The reason my people fear me… It fucking matters.
I wrench myself toward the bathing room door, ready to reassert the icy barriers between Thyra and me.
Thyra’s already responding. Impossibly, she whispers, “I think you could be right.”
No.
Juniper can’t be right. Neither of them can be right.
Thyra doesn’t understand what it would mean if she were right…
I lift my fist toward the back of the door, wanting to pummel it, to break this door and mend it with tears, because now I’m asking myself…
Despite everything I did, why can’t I have this one fucking thing?
At the end of this day, after I survived Thyra’s pain and didn’t succumb to my own, why can’t I have this one night?
Even a few hours when I could convince myself of a falsehood amidst all of my brutal truths: that it is safe for me to feel?
“Thank you, Juniper,” Thyra continues. “For speaking your mind.”
I imagine Juniper’s smile as she replies, “I’m not insulted by your thanks.”
With that, her footfalls carry her from the room.
I pull myself away from the door, pressing the heel of my palm to my chest, checking the beat of my damaged heart, finding the thump-thump steady.
Still cold. Still in control.
I square my shoulders, wipe my expression clean, and exit the room.
Three metal bowls rest on the table, each covered to keep the warmth in, along with two plates.
Thyra sits in one of the chairs, facing me. She will be fully aware that I heard every word she and Juniper said.
But she remains relaxed, casually swallowing a bite of bread. “Will you eat with me?”
My voice sticks in my throat. “I cannot.”
I promised her I would, but there’s no way I can eat right now.
She raises her far-too-perceptive gaze to mine, a slow study of my face and tense shoulders, not a hint of dismay in her response. “Good. I want a bath.”
My brow creases as she rises from her chair.
She approaches me, not quickly but carefully, her footfalls barely making a sound, her Lethian armor humming peacefully beneath her training suit.
Gently, her hand closes over mine.
“I want a bath,” she repeats, speaking even more quietly than before, “and this time, I want you to stay with me. Will you do that?”
I’m slow to reply, even if my body’s response is quick, a desire I’ve been pushing away for days.
My question is ragged, but I need clarity. “What do you want from me, Thyra?”
“As much as you want to give,” she says, her blue eyes raised.
Her hand hasn’t left mine. Her heartbeat is incredibly calm, but when my thumb brushes across her sleeve, feathering her palm, her breath catches, her lips part, and her pupils darken.
I draw her closer, my palm pressing to her lower back, need filling my mind and body.
I told myself she must come to me. Free of coercion. Free of desperation. Free of the need to survive.
She’s stronger. She has accepted her sorrow and buried her father. She isn’t hungry or tired or fearful…
I ask the question that has been waiting on the tip of my tongue since she bathed in the Alak-Teah. “What if I want to give you every pleasure you can imagine? What would your answer be?”
Her heart suddenly pounds, but she doesn’t hesitate before she says, “I accept.”