I sat there looking between them in awe. These fae weren’t only wielders of magic, they’d been witness to more history than I could possibly imagine—yet, they were more human than Thaddeus. I hated that it took seeing their pain to recognize how small the difference is between human and fae. At the end of the day, they just wanted to be loved—and if that’s not the most human condition of all, then I didn’t know what is.
“Maybe,” I said, voice thick as I rested a hand atop theirs, “we stop looking in the mirror and start shifting fault to the reason we were put in this impossible situation in the first place. I’ve blamed myself for my parents’ fate and the twins’ capture, butIam not the one responsible for either of those things. Thaddeus is, and he alone. At what point do we stop owningtheiratrocities as our own? We can be angry, grieved, hurt, scared even… but guilty? I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m not sure I’ll ever learn how to stop, but I think we all owe it to ourselves to try.”
“Damn, Spark,” Artton said, withdrawing his hand so he could get a proper look at me, “here I thought your speeches were only to shred the souls of your enemies.”
I pushed him, rolling my eyes. “I don’t makespeeches,” I protested.
Sidrick laughed. “Actually, you do.”
“Traitor,” I said, shooting him a look.
“In my defense, it’s fact-based, not opinion.”
I crossed my arms. “Oh?”
“What was the first one you witnessed?” Sidrick asked his partner in crime, and I knew the second Artton’s damn dimple appeared that this had become a team sport.
Tapping his chin in mock thought, Artton said, “I think it was the solstice dinner when she dressed down Wymond.”
I groaned, dragging my hands down my face.
Sidrick shook his head “No, I think it was after Myron healed her from her encounter with Amos.”
“Ah!” Artton snapped his fingers. “You’re right.It’s been over five hundred years, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a few scrapes and bruises get in the way of this momentous occasion,” he recited in a ridiculous pitchy voice that was supposed to be me.
“Gods,” I groaned. “I don’t sound like that.”
They both looked at me incredulously before egging each other on.
“Fetus for a fetus,” Sidrick supplied.
“When she kicked us out of morning breakfast.”
“Oh, when…”
They continued on like this, clearly no longer needing me to be an active participant to have their fun. Shaking my head with a smile, I stood to grab some water as they battled for the next best example. I took a long, deep pull from the waterskin, then washed myself, the cool water more than welcome against my face and neck.
When I was done, Sidrick reached out an arm, indicating he wanted some water. Hand on hip, I pulled the waterskin closer to me even though I was already well out of reach. “Oh, you think so, do you?” I said, eliciting a chuckle from both of them. “I don’t know, Sidrick. I expect this kind of behavior from his one”—I nodded in Artton’s direction—"but you…" I clicked my tongue. “I thought better of you.”
Smiling, he shifted into a kneeling position with a knee on the ground and a hand over his heart. “Forgive me, Lady Nyleeria, our Spark, our?—”
“Gods, you’re just as ridiculous as him,” I said, cutting him off, but I couldn’t help the smile that bloomed on my face as I walked up to him. He continued to hold his position, looking up at me with a playful glint I’d never seen from him. Holding out my hand, Sidrick reached for the proffered waterskin, and I pulled it back. He had to hold back his smile, trying to stay serious. “Promise you won’t besmirch my good name again?” I said, brow raised.
“Oh, I vow on my fami?—”
“Eeeek!” I yelped as Artton lunged, stealing the waterskin from me.
His hearty laugh filled the room, and I couldn’t help but join. “Not fair,” I pouted.
“You know what they say when you play with fire, don’t you?” he said with a raised brow before taking a swig and handing the skin to Sidrick, who now stood.
Knowing full well what the saying was, I crossed my arms and said, “No, what do they sa?—”
The ground shook with a tremor that forced to abandon my words, throwing my hands out to balance. Artton was there in a flash, allowing me to grip him for support.
“What was that?” Sidrick asked.
“Nothing good,” Artton said, and as if his words had conjured it, the ground shook again, only this time it was hard enough that flakes of obsidian rocked crumbled from the ceiling, forcing us tocover ourselves. Artton pulled me into him, shielding our bodies from the next few waves as the ceiling continued to crack apart.
