Chapter 16 Yield
Yield
Ifinish eating in solitary silence, much like I’m accustomed to.
I’ve learned a lot about Sanctuary… albeit futilely, with no new leads on Mavick.
The amount of time that has passed in the mortal realm remains a mystery.
I’ve been too wary to ask Brynn if he knows how that works, because I fear the answer.
My stomach tightens with nerves, and I slam down my fork.
I pick up the dagger as a distraction, gliding my finger over the sharp edge and marvel, as ever, that it does not cut me.
An entire week in Sanctuary and no new information about Mavick, no idea how things are back home.
Maybe it’s time to return to Jasmeen and ask about the mystery elixir I used on my father.
It is the only other piece of the puzzle I haven’t sorted through.
Again, because I’m a coward—what if I don’t want to know the answer?
I must find a way to speak to Jasmeen without Brynn.
I toss our dishes into the sink and retreat to the bedroom, where I grab the history book from Brynn’s dresser before treading to the washroom.
Drawing a hot bath, I sink into the bubbles and attempt to read more about this realm, but my mind drifts.
To Mavick. To my father. To Brynn. What is he doing right now?
What could his job entail? Surely he’s not a linguist or a librarian—but who else would speak so many languages?
Why did him slinking off tonight feel… avoidant?
Secretive? Why does that bother me? It’s not like I don’t have secrets.
After my bath water grows cold, I leave it and dress again in a tunic of Brynn’s, which has been much more comfortable for sleeping.
I lounge on the couch, struggling to absorb any of this book whatsoever.
I study its detailed map of Sanctuary. There do not appear to be any specific or divided courts, as in the mortal realm.
Just various cities and towns with, I assume, more literal names.
I do not wish to visit Blood Grove, which sits on the western edge of the kingdom.
Mayhem is not so bad, after getting used to it—but Hell may be another place to avoid.
Royal City’s illustration rivals the size of my palm, dwarfing every other city by tenfold.
I thumb through the pages to the chapter about royal lineage and read the first sentence no less than five times.
Comprehension fails me. The couch smells of Brynn now, as he’s slept on it the past week.
It’s inexplicably, frustratingly distracting.
I wrap myself in his thin blanket. Though I try to stay awake, to wait for Brynn despite his ordering me not to, I drift off.
Hours later, with the copper light pouring in, a loud knock at the door jolts me awake. At first, I cannot orient myself in the unfamiliar space. But the sight of Brynn padding barefoot out of the bedroom—hastily slipping a shirt over his horned head—grounds me.
“That’ll be Glo,” he says, sleep-heavy eyes scanning my disheveled appearance. I did not hear him return last night. I stand and attempt to run my fingers through my frizzy hair.
“You didn’t wake me.” His brow creases. “From the couch,” I add pointlessly.
“Oh, I tried,” he says with a sheepish chuckle. “You were out cold and—well—I didn’t think you’d like it much if I, well, moved you—so, I took the bed.”
I can’t explain the little flip my stomach performs at this.
Another hard knock at the door. I start.
“Come in,” Brynn calls, smiling.
The door swings open and sure enough, it’s the girl who collided with me in Aston—Glo.
Except, not quite. I remember her being younger.
But maybe it was the glamours, or perhaps her petite stature, because this pretty faerie seems to be my age.
Her long auburn hair shines and sparkles, like it’s made of glitter.
It’s parted down the middle and straight, curtaining her doe-like brown eyes.
Her skin is a pale orange, a muted peach or apricot, and small, heart-shaped wings peek over her shoulders.
She looks more like what I imagined a storybook pixie would—before I crossed paths with the real ones.
I do not anticipate the way my chest constricts as she runs and jumps into Brynn’s open arms. He spins her around in an embrace and they both laugh, the hearty sound echoing through the apartment.
When he releases her, she rises on tiptoe to muss his hair with playful swipes.
He grabs her mocking hand, their fingers interlocking at once—the touch natural, fluid, comfortable.
Oh. I swallow hard. Perhaps this is why Brynn regretted his attempt to flirt me into a deal. Or why he blushes and pivots every time I say anything sharp. I should have guessed. Remembering my unfortunate existence, Brynn glances my way and drops Glo’s hand. She grins all the same.
“Glo, this is Thea,” he declares. The sugary way he says my name now feels… insignificant. Glo’s is just as sweet on his tongue.
Why do you care? The mocking voice in my head snickers at my discomfort.
I give a shy wave as my face flushes. “Nice to meet you,” I say in a flat voice.
“I brought you some more clothes,” Glo says, unbothered by the fact that I’m wearing Brynn’s tunic—my pale legs bare and exposed, my hair wild.
She closes the distance between us to hand me another bundle.
She too stands within my bubble. It must be a fae thing—the severe lack of personal space.
I believed it was a Brynn thing. I wish he had never confessed his attempt to trick me through unbidden lust. It meant nothing, clearly.
“You didn’t mention how pretty she is, Vir,” Glo says, voice languid and smooth. My eyes snap to hers. The coy expression she wears is mischief incarnate. “I only saw you in passing in Aston. Not enough time to admire you.”
I fight the blush creeping up my neck. Brynn rubs the back of his as he begins, “Well—”
“It was enough time to rob me blind though, wasn’t it?” I cut in, with the sweetest smile I can conjure. Brynn shows no shock at my accusation. Instead, he smirks, as though pleased.
“Ooh, I like her,” Glo says, a puckish grin blooming on her lips. She reaches a pale orange finger up and ever so lightly skims my cheek with the edge of her nail in a taunting fashion. “She’s feisty.”
I do not recoil from her touch, despite it sending an involuntary tingle down my spine.
“I’m aware—though stubborn may be more fitting,” Brynn says. He watches Glo’s finger trace my jawline with growing discontent. I pin him with a glare and he stands straighter, clearing his throat.
“I’ll go ahead and get dressed, if you don’t mind,” I hiss, retreating to the washroom and doing my best not to slam the door like a petulant child.
The new clothes Glo brought are similar to the last and the ones she currently wears.
Despite myself, I sigh in grateful relief at the new undergarments folded inside.
I pull them on first, yank the low-cut shirt over my head, and slide into the comfortable pants.
I take a moment to tame my hair into a low braid.
With a deep, grounding breath, I open the door.
Brynn and Glo still stand between the backside of the couch and dining table, heads close in a quiet but heated conversation.
Glo notices me first. She coughs to alert Brynn to shut up, who turns to take me in, too.
Glo lets out a low whistle at my new get-up and Brynn elbows her. My cheeks redden, but I lift my chin high anyway.
“What are you two whispering about?” I ask. Brynn opens his mouth to answer, but indignation changes my mind. “Better yet—do not tell me. Keep your secrets.”
Brynn’s mouth becomes a hard line as he blinks in vexation. I cannot discern whether the irritation is directed at me or whatever he’s been whispering about with Glo. Glo’s keen gaze flits between us. She smirks.
“I need to visit the bazaar and talk with the seller at the apothecary,” I announce.
I’ve been pushing the thought of my father to the back of my mind but can no longer bear the growing guilt.
The elixir is the last possible thread I can pull on—and I need confirmation that its potential side effects are not dire.
“Depending on our conversation, I might need to return to the mortal realm, at least for a short while. Are you able to conjure a passageway, Glo?”
Glo shakes her head, “I’m supposed to be—I can’t really risk it right now. Emergency passages only.”
Ah. Lying low, as her note said. It could be an emergency, but I’m not willing to give them that much information. Only if necessary.
I open my mouth and snap it closed, catching myself before saying Brynn. He seems to tense anyway, bracing for it. “Vir,” I say instead, “you mentioned a passageway in Royal City—would you be willing to take me there?”
He answers with a curt nod. I cross the room to the table and pick up my satchel and cloak. The dagger slides perfectly into the belt loop on my new pants.
“Thanks for the clothes, by the way,” I say to Glo. “Consider us square.”
Glo smiles, revealing pointed canines. It’s intimidating but seems genuine. “On my honor, I pledge to never steal from you again, Thea,” she offers, mocking a salute. I presume she too is Oathstruck and cannot lie.
Brynn’s brow furrows, his jaw tightening. His agitation steams, like a teapot coming to a boil. I eye him as he runs a nervous hand through his hair. With no clue how much he’s already told Glo, we’re at an impasse.
“Why do you need to go back to the mortal realm? I thought we were to find Mavick first,” he blurts. Glo’s smirk vanishes at the name of my faerie friend.
Not much, apparently.
“Oh, did you think you were the only one here with secrets?” I ask.