“See that?” He gestures toward where Elora and Shaw have taken refuge in one of the corners, as far from the specters as possible. “This is not her world. She fears it. And as long as she fears it, she fears you.”
“My sister doesn’t fear me.”
“How do you know she came here to make amends and not because she was afraid of what my brother might do if she didn’t?”
“Elora wasn’t forced to come here,” I say. “She made her choice. She wants me in her life. She told me so.”
“Are you sure?”
I keep silent, my stomach lurching as the words sink in. He has a point. Elora is here, but only because she’s afraid of whatshe’lllose. And that’s… fine. That is something my sister and I will work through, in time.
“Wren.” His voice softens. “This could be your only opportunity toreturn to your old life. Can you live with yourself knowing you chose your captor over your family?”
He passes something into my hand: a small glass vial filled with scarlet liquid—essence of the poppy flower.
“The last thing I want for you,” Zephyrus whispers into my ear, “is regret.” Pulling away, he studies my face, then nods and moves off, vanishing down a shadowy corridor before I can call him back.
The glass grows sweaty in my grip. I look to where Elora and Shaw stand, apart from everyone else. I look to where Boreas is still engaged in forced conversation, and I remember what it felt like to observe him for the first time, black terror looming inside me.
That promise to kill the North Wind? I made it months ago. But what if Zephyrus is right? What if Elora returns to Edgewood and I never see her again? Is risking the chance of returning to Edgewood worth the pain I’ll cause myself, and Boreas, if he learns of my deceit?
I don’t know. But if I do not make this choice with a conscious effort, awareness of everything I could lose, then was the choice ever really mine?
My feet are already moving. Down the hall, up the stairs. Calm. I am calm.
The party’s clamor bleeds thin behind the walls of stone. My chest cinches tighter, as though my feet send me in one direction, my heart another, tearing a cavity straight through me. This choice, brought to me on a knifepoint.
“Pallas.” The guards stationed at the north wing bow in my presence. “I left something in Boreas’ rooms.”
“What is it, my lady? I will grab it for you. I would not want you to miss the party.” Since tending to him in the war camp, he has warmed up to me considerably.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea.” I make a show of shuffling my feet, the mark of a woman in a compromising position. “What I left is, well…” Cupping a hand to the side of my mouth, I whisper, “My undergarments.”
He blanches, pale cheeks darkening with his blush. “Oh.” He looks to the other guards, who are doing a spectacular job of ignoring us. “In that case, yes, grab it yourself. But be quick. The party awaits.”
And just like that, I’m through the last line of defense.
I slip inside and seal my fate.
38
UNEXPECTEDLY, DARKNESS DOES NOT SHROUDthe king’s rooms. A fire burns low, lighting the walls in a deep amber glow, and moonlight spills through the windows, the curtains having been tied back, offering a glimpse of the nightscape beyond. With the warmer weather of late, much of the snow has melted to reveal patches of dirt and dead grass. The Deadlands is changing—perhaps for the better.
The door clicks shut behind me as I move toward the king’s tea kettle, which awaits heating near the fireplace. My head throbs as if in sickness, the glass vial clamped inside my sweaty fist.
When I first met the Frost King, I knew him only as a banished god whose cruelty crept like ice over everything it touched. But Boreas is a man who has lost much, who clings to his power because it is the armor shielding his bruised, grief-stricken heart. Upon ingesting the tonic, he will fall into a bottomless sleep, allowing me the opportunity to slide a knife into his heart. And I will be free.
Free.Somehow, the word no longer holds its allure.
What changed? Because I may be a coward in some respect, but I’ve learned, above all else, to be honest with myself. To look into my own heart and see.
The plan was to return home. The plan was always to return home—until it wasn’t. Elora is married, a child on the way. She has Shaw,a new life carved from the shell of her old one. It hurt, but I came to terms with the choices she made. I let go.
But a tide always returns. This time, it brought Zephyrus, the means to revive a crushed hope. Another chance, if I was willing to follow through on my initial vow. Edgewood, however, has faded, as do all things, given enough distance and time.
These are my lies: Boreas is my enemy. Elora comes first. I want to return home.
These are my truths: Boreas is my husband. My needs come first. I am already home.
