Loosening the cravat knot at the base of his throat, he made his way around the overgrown hemlock to his favorite bench.
Only, it was not empty.
Cassian skid to a stop, admiring the back of Finnian’s inky-black strands tied behind his relaxed shoulders.
The heaviness in Cassian’s chest gave way to the sight of him.
He’d dreamed about this moment. To have Finnian sitting in the grove he had crafted for him. To spend mornings sitting on that same bench and watch Finnian foraging the herbs for whichever potion or spell he was currently working on.
Cassian walked lightly, his limbs feeling weightless as he drew closer.
“Finny,” he said as a greeting. A gentle way to announce his presence, knowing since he approached from the right that Finnian’s hearing aid may not pick up on his footfalls right away. “You are here.”
Finnian angled his head sideways to regard him. “I am,” he said, smiling warmly. “Though I think your attendant is paranoid that I am going to steal the souls. He has checked up on me every ten minutes.”
Cassian chuckled and claimed the seat beside him. “I have no doubt that he recited a lengthy set of rules to you.”
“The Ruler of Death’s job is endless, it seems.” He swiped his thumb over the blood smudge on Cassian’s cheek. Magic prickled in his pores.
“I guess my handkerchief didn’t suffice.”
Finnian wiped another spot along his brow and surveyed his face for any missed spots. “I know how you loathe the feeling of blood on you.”
Cassian’s heart warmed, and he gave Finnian’s hand a light squeeze. “I appreciate the gesture.”
It had been over five thousand years since the day he and his siblings were murdered, and how he’d been forced to layand bleed every last drop of mortal blood from his body in the Serpentine Forest. Memories weathered and stripped from the time that had passed by.
Though, no matter the years, a speck of blood on his skin still made his pulse jump and his vision tunnel.
“What is this place?” Finnian lounged back on the bench and peered through the garden. “Mavros was vague when I asked.”
Cassian stretched out his leg and rested it against Finnian’s. “It is called Finnian’s Grove.”
Finnian turned his head to look at him, eyebrows raised, eyes widened slightly.
“I do enjoy evoking new expressions on your face.” He grinned, reaching up and playfully pinching at Finnian’s cheek.
“Mygrove?” He straightened on the bench and peered out at the blossoms, the hawthorn trees budded with berries, the calm current of the stream.
Cassian joined his hands together in his lap. “Yes, it has all the magical herbs and plants a mage could desire. It was after I left you at the cemetery. Five years went by and each day was insufferable. To cope with the ache, I would come sit here in my free time and daydream about what to fill the empty space with. All the ingredients you needed for your witchcraft, a place to wander when you desired to clear your head.”
Finnian grew quiet, his eyes drifting in thought. “To waste the day away in bed together,” he murmured. “Spend my days foraging and crafting potions, uninterrupted. Never burdened by the stretches of time we are forced to endure now without seeing one another.” He turned to Cassian with a sad slant to his lips. “Sounds like a dream.”
A long strand of hair escaped his tie and fluttered in the breeze. Cassian reached up and pushed it behind his shoulder. “Anything you want, Finny, and I will make sure it's yours.”
“And if I said I want forever?” he asked with a sense of deliberation, searching Cassian’s gaze.
It was a loaded question.
A somberness hardened Cassian’s expression.
Thinking too far into their future twisted his gut. Ruelle had cast a toxic shadow of her presence everywhere in their relationship. Through each moment of tenderness and happiness, Cassian had to wonder when such joy would be taken away from him.
He had not spoken to Finnian of Ruelle in years, and Finnian had not brought her up once. It was a topic neither wished to face the reality of.
Although Finnian did not know the details, he was smart enough to assume Ruelle was a thorn in Cassian’s side. She had become an item on their to-do list that they both willingly kept overlooking.
Then there was the secret that had its teeth in Cassian’s throat, biting deeper each day.
