“But I have mourned her, I have said my goodbyes.” I press my eyes closed as my arms wrap tightly around his waist, locking by gripping my elbows. “Why does that shroud of death continue to haunt me?”
“The pain manifests in ways we least expect, at times we least expect.” He kisses my temple gently.
It’s a tender gesture, one that whispers to me,Evander cares for you. A few tears escape despite my best efforts. I draw a shuddering breath, trying to collect myself. But, for some reason, it only seems to make things worse. More tears fall.
I’ve begun to care for him, too. I hold him all the tighter, as though I can keep the realization safe and pressed close to my heart, not allowing it to escape. It is not safe to care. Not safe for my fragile heart. Nor is it safe for us when we return to the wolves’ den.
“It’s all right, Faelyn,” he soothes, stroking my hair. “It’s all right.”
“When…when Aurora is freed, she will be gone too. Everyone I’ve ever loved has left well before I was ready.” The words stumble over the tears I’m fighting. Evander flinches. My wits return at the sight. What am I thinking? He’s endured far worse than I. “Evander, I?—”
His grip slackens, hands returning to my shoulders as he leans away. I expect to see an expression of disgust. Of anger that I could be so inconsiderate to him and his hurt.
But that isn’t the expression he wears. Instead, Evander’s brows pinch with what almost looks like pain. As though he is somehow the cause ofmypain. Anger would be easier than guilt.
“I will be there,” he says before I can get a word of apology in for my careless disregard of his suffering.
“What?” I whisper.
“I will be there,” Evander says again, with emphasis. “I will be there when you bid Aurora goodbye. I will be there when you need to spin more threads, and dye them in your vats of turmeric and pine. When your fingertips are stained yellow and you reek of onion peels for two weeks.” He chuckles softly, almost sadly. “I will be there when you loop them after they’ve dried and I willbe there when you need to start the process anew with spring’s fresh wool.”
“Evander…” I can’t formulate a response. What he’s saying is barely comprehensible to me. I understand the words…but the meaning.What is he really implying?
“As long as you wish for it, I will be there with you.”
“Why are you saying all this?” I breathe, searching his silvery eyes, shadowed by his dark hair and the fading light. He looks dangerous in the twilight. Yet I am not afraid. This danger is on my side, protecting me.
“Because I do not want you to think for another second that you will be alone ever again.” He’s deathly serious.
“Please don’t make promises like this unless you intend on keeping them.” My words are no stronger than the last. It’s as though all the strength I’ve been relying on to prop me up is fading. As if I can finally rely on his support at long last.
“I have every intention of keeping it.” Evander locks his gaze with mine and doesn’t let go. He holds me as much with a stare as his arms and as my own grasp.
Somehow, despite all odds, I believe him.
CHAPTER 29
That nightI decide to make a shelter for us to sleep in, one sturdy enough that it could serve Aurora and me. Evander lends his assistance at my guidance.
“I would think you would be better at this.” I chuckle and take the branch from his grasp, showing him again how to weave it with the others to form a roof of saplings for the hovel we’re making.
“You’ve seen the Lykin Plains; there aren’t a lot of trees there. Ask me to set up a tent and I will have it done for you in seconds.” Evander makes another attempt, with much better success than the last four.
“This is not that much different than setting up a tent.”
He huffs. “A tent is vastly different. It has a precise way it comes together. There’s far less of all these fiddly bits.” He struggles with another branch. This time I let him and he figures it out. “How did you learn to do this, anyway?”
“My mother taught me,” I say.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something difficult for you.” He tries to hide a flash of guilt in his focus as he twists the small, soft branches.
“Don’t be sorry. It’s all right.” I flash him a smile as proof. “You said it yourself, grief can be strange. I’m fine to talk about her—and Grandma. Iwantto. I don’t want to let grief become fear of their memories. I love them far too much for that.”
He shares in my smile before returning his focus to weaving. We’re making good progress and this shelter should hold not just for days or weeks, but possibly months. Though I hope it won’t take me that long to escape with Aurora…
“My mother taught me how I could use the forest for protection and sustenance. So did my grandma, after. But she was older, then, and her hip was already starting to ache so she couldn’t go as far or want to be out for as long,” I explain. “What my mother didn’t have a chance to teach me, I learned myself in the wood as I went out to collect supplies for Grandma and me. Even though I couldn’t sense all the spirits—or there were no other spirits in my world to sense—I was still connected to their remnants. To the world itself.”
“It wasn’t magical or spirit related…but my father also taught me about how I could thrive in the forest,” Evander says so softly I almost miss the words. His hands still, but I don’t encourage him to continue weaving. I give him the moment and the space by focusing on my own hands and my own branches. I’m surprised when he continues, “We would go out, sometimes for a week at a time, into the woods. He never seemed like he wanted to go—he’d exhaust himself telling me how dangerous it was. How I had to be so careful. The days leading up to our trips, he would spend hours planning and fretting. Scouting ahead. But…”
