The dwarf leaned territorially over the table. “Your people could try.”

  It might have been an end of things. It might have also been a terrible beginning of things. A held breath before the kind of destruction neither of the posturing men could secretly abide.

  But as the fates would have it, the conversation took a sudden turn.

  “We are hunting a dragon.”

  For the second time that night, both men turned to the fire-haired girl standing between them—the one who’d been uncharacteristically quiet until that point. Her cheeks flamed under their shared gaze, but once she began to speak, she found herself completely incapable of stopping.

  “It destroyed my village in a single breath of fire. I watched them burn with my own eyes, then set off to get help. You wondered, when we met, why three such different companions were travelling together. A shifter, a mortal girl, and a fae. Well, now you know. That is the reason.”

  “Kiera.”

  Eden’s voice cracked through the air, sharp as she’d ever heard. But she kept going. If he truly wished to silence her and resurrect a blood feud, he’d have to cover her mouth.

  “And it is not just the dragon, but the man who commands it. He is the son of a great god, one who’s fallen into shadow and seeks to spread darkness over the length of the realm. Perhaps you’ve felt its presence already.” She stared intently over the table. “Perhaps you feel it even now.”

  For all his earlier gruff and bluster, the dwarf was remarkably steady—both feet planted firmly on the floor, as he held her gaze. A few times, his eyes flicked to Eden, as if waiting for the fae to deny it. A few times, he thought of the poppies, wondering if they were at play.

  After a long stretch of silence, he decided to simply ask, “Is this true?”

  Eden hesitated so long, her heart began to quicken in panic. But after what felt like a small eternity, he inclined his head. “It’s true.”

  A secret, for a secret.

  She stepped forward, deciding to press her luck a bit farther.

  “You speak of ancient grudges and ancient bloodshed...but this is a breathing enemy. One with the power to destroy us all. Would it not be better to put such things aside?” Her eyes drifted between them. “To combine the might of your two great peoples, and drive the darkness back?”

  It was quiet a moment, then to her great surprise, Olin laughed. It was quiet, but merry, a sound that seemed strangely in tune with the fire crackling behind him.

  He shook his head. “She talks like we’re in a fairytale. Dancing ponies and rainbows streaking the sky.”

  Eden smiled in spite of himself. “I’d say it was the poppies, but that is nothing new.”

  There was another stretch of silence before the tension eased a bit.

  “We are on a long journey,” Eden said abruptly, “chasing after gods and dragons, as my friend has said.” His bright eyes swept over the table. “I trust this will keep, until we get back?”

  She beamed with pride beside him, as Olin let out a slow breath.

  “Aye,” he answered with a slow smile, “it will keep.” As it to provide further assurance, he reached across the stones, offering out his hand. “We can discuss it further when you return. In the meantime, it will be handled with the utmost discretion. I give you my word.”

  Eden stared a moment, then shook his hand. “Until we return, then.”

  “Until you return.”

  KIERA AND EDEN LEFT the house immediately after, fastening their cloaks and heading back the way they’d come. They hadn’t spoken or even looked at each other since leaving the dwarf’s fire. It wasn’t until they reached the main road, she was able to summon the courage to speak.

  “Are you angry with me?” she asked softly, chancing a look at the fae’s face.

  He was difficult to read on the best of days, and she couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a genuine argument. Let alone, in front of a dwarf. Let alone, about things important as this.

  “I am not angry with you.” He let out a tired breath, rubbing his eyes. “I am not angry with anyone. Or perhaps I am angry with everyone. Does that not feel like the same thing?”

  She rubbed his back in comforting circles, forgetting as always, then remembering, that some part of him had frozen around nineteen. For once, he leaned in to it, wilting in a kind of sigh.

  “I’m glad you’re not smiling anymore,” he added suddenly, “that dangerous, drugged-out smile. I’m surprised you didn’t make us hold hands and lift our voices in song.”

  That would have been monstrous...and rather lovely.

  “No, that faded rather suddenly,” she answered, realizing it at the same time. “One moment, everything felt warm and delightful. Then it was just...done.”

  He nodded wearily. “It happens like that, sometimes.”

  They walked a little farther, weaving their way down the street. Even though the sun had set, the village was still bustling. Twice, they had to step aside for giant wagons, bumping noisily over the stone. The doors to most of the shops were still open, the others were just seeming to come to life.

  “This is a strange place,” she muttered, pulling up the collar of her cloak. The dwarven homes were stifling, but the temperature had dropped after sunset. “Do they never actually sleep?”

  “They spend half their lives beneath ground,” he replied, following her gaze. “They are less governed by the sun than the rest of us. I forget that sometimes,” he added. “I should remember.”

  When they neared their own tavern, he pulled her to a sudden stop.

  “Kiera, everything that just happened...I would ask that you keep it to yourself.” He looked down intently, staring deep in her eyes. “I’m not talking about Jesse, but I haven’t...” He searched for the right words. “There is much riding on this decision. I need time to consider what it means.”

  She nodded silently, warming with a smile. “Take all the time you...”

  They lifted their eyes.

  ...need.

  As if they’d been spotted from further away, the door to the tavern had been thrown open and two men were striding onto the street. While they were technically together, they couldn’t have been further apart. Jesse’s color was high, and he seemed determined not to notice the vampire walking alongside him. Evander looked as though he’d been struck across the face.

  “You promised not to wander,” the shifter accused as soon as they were in earshot. His eyes moved swiftly between them, only half-appeased. “She was with you?”

  Eden froze where he was standing, as if the ground had hardened beneath his feet.

  “We were both with Olin,” Kiera interjected quickly, hoping her boyfriend would pick up on those silent cues. “There’s no need to worry about the dwarves keeping us here. We’re free to leave whenever we wish. You might even say, he wished us well,” she added, trying hard to smile.

  The shifter nodded with satisfaction. Evander kept his eyes on the fae.

  “So the plan is no different,” Jesse surmised, looking from one to the other. “We will leave this place in the morning and head for the coast. A ship will carry us over the sea.”

  Yes, the plan was no different. Except for one glaring thing.

  The four of us? Or the three?

  “We should find out who took us from the cavern,” the shifter continued, as if the matter had already been settled. “See if any of our belongings were salvaged from the wreck.”

  Evander stepped hesitantly forward.

  “I could do that,” he offered quietly, those dark eyes still locked on Eden. “There are only a few people who might have—”

  Jesse appeared suddenly in between. “Who says we want you back?”

  A ringing silence fell between them, as every part of the vampire seemed to flinch. It seemed a particular cruelty, to have it put forth so plainly. But one way or another, it was right there.

  Evander dropped his eyes to the road, speaking in a low murmur. “I made a terrible mistake—”

  “Yes, you did,” Jesse interrupted, arms folded over his chest. He threw a protective look at the fae before speaking for him. “But I see no reason not to make it twice. Leave, now. Since it was so easy the first time, you shouldn’t have any problem repeating it.”

  That silence was back, dragging them all into the ground. It seemed to last forever, holding each one in breathless suspension, then at last, Evander spoke quietly once more.

  “...Eden.”

  Those bright eyes lifted slowly, settling on his face.

  “You haven’t said a word.”

  The fae stared a moment, as though he’d forgotten how to speak. When he finally managed, it wasn’t at all like him. Each word was uncertain, even shakier than the last.

  “I didn’t know what to say,” he confessed softly. “I don’t know why you came back, or what you’re expecting. I was afraid that whatever I said would make you leave again.” He drew in a silent breath, dropping his eyes to the ground. “...and I couldn’t bear that.”

  There was something profoundly terrible about it, like seeing a wild horse broken at last. So confident, he had been. So sure-footed. Suddenly, he couldn’t meet the vampire’s gaze.

  Evander was just as lost.

  He had expected the fight of a lifetime. He had expected his lover to curse and send him away. He had not expected this third option. This silent person, too afraid to speak.

  He had not expected the fae to be so...broken.

  “I don’t expect anything,” he finally answered, trying to gather the pieces himself. “I don’t even have to travel alongside you. I would be happy to keep my distance, keep watch and hunt. I could scout ahead, try to find us a ship—”

  “I forgive you,” Eden interrupted suddenly.

  The two stared at each other, unable to move.

  Voices echoed off the cobblestones around them. People hurried back and forth. But all of that faded into the background. For a moment, it was just the two of them, alone in the world.

  “...how is that possible?” Evander finally asked, gathering the breath to speak. “The boy is right. I left you in the middle of the forest. I broke all promises, reneged on my pledge.” A look of sheer heartbreak washed over him, breaking like a wave. “You cannot just forgive me—I left.”

  The fae regarded him in silence, emotions turning like pages across his face. Each one was gone before it settled, impossible to define. But he settled on something a little brighter.

  “You came back.”

  Chapter 5

  It was the night before yet another grand adventure, a quest upon which the fate of the very realm might hang in the balance...and none of the friends slept a wink.

  Of course, they pretended.

  To avoid logistical awkwardness, Kiera and Jesse pushed the two beds together, and the immortals lay on opposite sides of the floor. Their eyes closed, their limbs went still, and some of them made a concerted effort to control their breathing. Some of them weren’t breathing at all.

  When the sun made a merciful appearance, lifting bright over the crest of trees, they were raw and frayed, and given the nature of what they were about to do...almost comically unprepared.

  “I suppose we’ll have to get new supplies,” Eden said after a lengthy silence.

  The friends stood in the center of the busiest road, wincing against the sun’s piercing rays and glancing blearily at the rows of shops. After an increasingly desperate search, they hadn’t been able to find anyone who’d been in the mines and could tell them if any of their belongings had been salvaged. They couldn’t find anyone, who even knew anyone who’d been in the mines. This, from a mining town. Olin was already gone, the charge for the room had been anonymously settled, and when Kiera tried to summon any of the other faces to mind, all she could think of were bees. In the end, they were left to simply reconvene in the village square and consider their next steps.

  “Where do we stand on coin?” Kiera asked, squinting up at the fae.

  They’d kept most of their stash in the satchels, but sometimes when they were travelling near the larger roads, they carried a piece or two. She and Jesse had been stripped of their clothes and washed clean of terium, by whoever had assumedly dragged them to the village and dropped them on the healer’s floor. Either out of habit or suicidal intention, the immortals had been given a rougher treatment—a hands-off approach. There was a chance they’d managed to keep something.

  Eden’s hand drifted instinctively to his pocket before his face went cold. No, there was nothing to help them. It had either been lost in the tunnel collapse, or taken by the dwarves.

  He had his suspicions.

  “Why do we need any?” Jesse challenged, throwing back his head with a boastful grin. “We have been travelling for months. Sleeping in the open, living in the wild. Not even when I ran with wolves, have I spent so much time outdoors. We can make what we need, hunt what we eat, and gather things along the way to sell for the rest. I’m telling you, I have nothing but faith in our skills.”

  Normally, this was when the immortals would make a joke.

  He has been travelling for MONTHS, Evander. Did you hear that?

  Don’t tease him, love. It seems longer in dog years.

  They never looked at each other. Both kept their eyes squarely on the road.

  “I admire the spirit, but we should buy things here,” Eden answered quietly, fiddling with the strap on his cloak. “Not at one of the port cities, where things will cost twice as much. There are also things we might not be able to find further on. I don’t know what weapons or foods they may have across the sea. Fresh water might be scarce. I don’t even know what grows there.”

  Kiera glanced up with a jolt, oblivious to the cart of granite slabs that tumbled down the road behind her. For one of the first times since they’d left, it began to actually register. They were about to leave their world behind and enter another. They were about to travel across the great sea.

  She froze in a moment of perfect stillness, then couldn’t resist a tiny smile. “I’m the first girl from my village to travel so far.” She looked from one to the next, tickled with pride. “You know what? I’m probably the first person. Ever. By a lot.”

  Eden glanced at the sky, tired and impatient. “Your village burned. What does it matter?”

  I’d forgotten how much fun you are in the mornings.

  She elbowed his broken ribs.

  “So what do you suggest we do?” Jesse interceded, wedging them routinely apart. “I think everyone here would pay coin to punch a fae. Shall we try something like that? I can start—”

  He side-stepped a team of ancient donkeys, plodding down the center of the street. They were dragging a cart of delicate glass instruments behind them, not one of which had managed to break. It was a statistical miracle. The driver was absentmindedly swinging his axe.

  Evander paled a bit, glancing back at the others. “Perhaps we should have this conversation off the road?”

  The others continued talking. Kiera threw a secret look at his face.

  A week ago, he would have simply moved them—taken the fae’s cloak with a bemused smile and towed him to safer ground. Eden would likely have never noticed. He would likely have been carried away in song. Now, it looked as though the vampire would rather try moving the donkeys.

  She wondered if things would ever be the same. She wondered if they ever could.

  There seemed an impossible distance between them. At no point, since their conversation the previous evening, had either of them attempted to say anything more. They simply passed by each other as if they weren’t actually there. Of course, that didn’t stop the vampire from looking, but he was careful with his eyes, hiding them in the reflection of a window, behind a curtain of raven hair. At no point did Eden look at anything but the next task. Counting his arrows, buckling his shoe.

  “I could send out a few ravens,” the fae offered tiredly, running his hands over his face. “It might take a while to reach them, but I used to have some friends in the area—”

  He stopped short, lifting his eyes in surprise.

  Olin was striding up the middle of the road, a pipe between his lips, a drumstick hanging from his belt, and four heavy bags strapped across his back. The very same bags the friends had lost in the mine. Each one was heavy enough by itself, but the dwarf didn’t seem to notice. He was whistling under his breath, wearing the same rumpled clothes as the previous evening.

  He must have gone searching right after we left.

  “Good morning,” he greeted them cheerfully, dropping the bags in a pile at their feet. “I went to get your things—what’s left of them, anyway. We were able to recover quite a bit.”

  The friends reached for them in a daze, having resigned never to seeing them again. It might have been a childish impulse, but none of them realized until that very moment, how attached they’d grown to the weathered straps, the holes and oil stains. A hundred memories sewn into the grain.

  “You went back,” Eden murmured, unable to hide his surprise. He reached down carefully and picked up his bow, running his fingers along the polished curve. An uncertain emotion swept over him, catching in his throat, before he finally lifted his eyes. “Thank you, Olin.”

  The dwarf nodded curtly as Jesse reached past him for the map.

  “I can’t believe you found anything,” he said excitedly, smoothing down the corners. “I can’t believe you were even able to get inside, there was so much damage. I was going to try myself—”

  “There’s no need,” Olin replied lightly, watching as they divided up the supplies. “And given that you were the ones who caused the damage, I didn’t want you going back anytime soon.”

  Jesse dropped his eyes, flushing with embarrassment. “...we’re very sorry about that.”

  Kiera was rifling gleefully through the bags, armed with a much sunnier outlook than when she’d woken up. They were stuffed with many of the old things, dirtied and damaged though they were, but there were plenty of new items as well. Dishes and flasks, a new hatchet—to replace the one that had been broken. There was even a bronzed compass with something incomprehensible scribbled along the side. She squinted at it curiously, tilting the edge towards the sun.

 

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