Silva didn’twantto forgive him. She wanted him to suffer and ache as she had all this time, wanted him to understand what the distance had done to her. She felt as if a part of her heart had been cleaved away, torn by his teeth and the wound had gaped, bleeding freely, for two long, endless years. Aelin was the only reason the bleeding had stanched, eventually.
She wanted to rip him open, to cut out a chunk ofhisheart; wanted to mash it into the hole he’d left in hers so that she might feel whole again, wanted to drip in his blood until she felt warm . . . but without him, she’d not have her daughter. And he’d already missed so much.
“What’s gone is gone. But you have to make a choice on what happens next, Tate. Are you back? Or did you comehome? Because if you think this is going to be halfway, you’re wrong.”
“Silva—”
“No,” she cut him off, shaking her head. “This isn’t a negotiation. I’m not the same elf you left five years ago. You might not like who I’ve become.”
“No, you are,” he insisted. Her spine shivered when his hand raised, cupping her face. “You are, Silva. This is who you’ve always been, dove, just under the surface. It’s the version I always liked best.” His thumb traced over the apple of her cheek, curving around her lip, catching the tear that fell.
“Well . . . you say that now.”
His laugh was a pained huff at her temple, turning her head up and capturing her lips. Silva leaned into the kiss. She never wanted to let him go again . . . but right now, it was what she needed to do. It was her turn to pull away first.
“I’m going home. And you’re going to decide what you want to do.” She pulled back just enough to meet his eye once more, kissing his scraped knuckles. “I’ll love you forever. But if you can’t be good for her, then you’re not good for me. You told me that very first weekend we met that your family legacy was getting some naive girl pregnant and then abandoning them both.” She held his eye as she shrugged, nearly able to feel the fire jumping in their golden depths as he zeroed in on her words. “So far, you’ve done a great job keeping tradition. I don’t care if that’s fair or not. The situation is what it is. If you want her to call you daddy, you have to earn that. She’s had enough upheaval.”
A tiny voice in her head was furious with her, little fists beating the sides of her brain, screaming that for two years, all she wanted was this reunion.It’s only a reunion if he’s planning to stay.
“Silva—” His voice was pained, his eyes full of tears again as his fingers tightened around her wrist, but he was injured and she shrugged him off easily.
“I’ll be back later this week so you can meet her. But you need to decide first. Are you back? Or did you come home? Because if you’re not home for good, forever, then you need to hurry up and leave. And don’tevercome back. You don’t get to decidewhat’s best for me anymore, Tate. You’re making this choice for yourself. Make the right one. I’ll be back in a few days.”
Ris
As the intricate gate swung slowly open before her, bidding her entrance, Ris understood what was meant by “Cevanorë started with a house.”
The house was still there. Long and white, not quite a mansion, not quite a country home, the stone edifice rambled in a way buildings rarely did anymore, owing its masonry to a previous age of artisans. From that original structure, Ris could see where it had blossomed, expansion after expansion. The gym, the spa, the medical center. The tennis courts, the croquet gardens, the ballrooms and dining rooms, on and on, a circular edifice, making its way around the endless amount of land those first elves had marshaled, long before Cambric Creek was incorporated, connected in the center by that original house.
She wondered if she would be around long enough to see whattheirhouse would someday become.
Ten acres. That was what they had to work with. At least, for now.
“This is something I want to do,” Caleia had insisted when Ris balked at the suggestion. “This is the giftIwant to give the community. The mark I want to leave on Cambric Creek.”
Ten acres was her allotment at Saddlethorne. Her tree sat in a far field, and while the surrounding ten acres were farmed, they technically belonged to her. She had been in negotiations with Cal for the better part of the last year and a half, unbeknownst to Ris or the rest of their group. Building on her land was unfeasible — it was too far afield, too farintothe farm itself . . . but Cal was willing to come to the table.
“He’s very reasonable for a centaur. He knows farming is a hard industry to survive in. He’s fifth generation on this land, you know. His boys are going to take it over, but who knows if they’re in it for the long haul? And who knows how much longer after that? They’ll wind up parceling it out eventually. And the only property that has as much land as Saddlethorne is Enoch at the winery, and he’ll live forever out of spite. This is the best long-term play we can make. I’m donating the land, and there’s nothing you can sayordo to stop me. This way, all the money we raised can go right into construction.”
Caleia’s ten acres were to be reallocated to one of the corners — she would relinquish the area around her tree, in exchange for land with better road access, giving them the opportunity to start building immediately. A provision was being added to give Caleia — and the group afterward — the first purchase rights on any Saddlethorne land Cal’s descendants might choose to sell. She reassured Ris that they weren’t stepping on any toes. Saddlethorne was comprised of more than a thousand acres, more than what most folks in the community realized, and their ten acres were a drop in the bucket.
“Honestly, it's barely enough to do anything. But it’s a start.”
Ten acres. It was enough to get them started, they reasoned. Access to the road, a parking lot, electricity and water linesplaced, a gas line extension. A house. A foundation to start. Cevanorë started with a house, and now so were they.
Adjusting her sunglasses, Ris stepped out of the car, ignoring the dubious look on the valet’s face.
Her car had been new when she’d bought it, shortly after she’d moved to Cambric Creek for work. It had been the first new car she’d ever owned, a first in her family in general, because she’d grown up with her parents’ secondhand vehicles. The luxury sedan with the immediately recognizable hood ornament had been given to her father by his grandfather, and it was treated with the wary respect it deserved, driven to drop Ris off at her Elvish school each day, whenever her parents came to see her play sports or sing in a recital, and little else. They understood its value rested in the optics, and it was not risked on running errands or other daily trips.
Optics were what she had in mind when she’d purchased her car brand new. A brand new community, she’d told herself at the time, a new community of elves to slide herself into, blurring the edges of who she was and who she professed outwardly to be. She’d gone to Elvish liltenu classes several times at Cevanorë while she’d been exploring her membership options. The pilates-like class had been fun, the facilities immaculate and she had no doubt that she’d be able to spin a convincing enough yarn to wrap around herself until her membership was secure and she was in the thick of the upper echelon of club gossips. Pretty, popular Ris always found her place.
. . . But she hadn’t done that. She’d not gone back to Cevanorë after those few classes, opting ] to not pursue membership. She’d lost her stomach for acting, and although the decision had weighed on her, she wouldn’t be where she was that day had she chosen to play the game way back when.Invited because you’re a threat.
The invitation to Cevanorë was the first time the Elvish enclave had reached out to her directly since she’d moved to Cambric Creek. That the invitation was receivednowfelt telling.
“You need to go so you can piss in their koi pond,” Lurielle had insisted. It was the monthly night out without the kids, which was what she did every month, regardless of how often she was encouraged to bring one or both along. Ris understood. She was exhausted some nights, and she didn’t have two small children wreaking havoc on her home. Just an Ainsley and a Fitz, and that was enough.
“Oooo, I know! Bring containers from home and clean out the dessert tray in the dining room! And then, you know, bring them here to share. Or to my house.”
