“Don’t, Seren. Don’t ask me to do that. Because, I will. I’ll do anything you ask, and it will tear me apart.” I felt like one raw, exposed nerve—frayed and hurting. Heartbroken at the sight of her beautiful face and her rolling tears.
“Harkin…”
“Goodbye, Ren.” Maybe if I said it again, I could convince myself that this was the right decision. Maybe I already knew nothing would ever be right without her.
Tears fell down both of our flushed faces as I walked backwards, leaving but never turning my back on her.
I saw the words—the goodbye—on her lips, but no sound came out.
A choked noise came from me as the door shut between us, and it was my turn to touch my chest.
Seren had not only been holding her own heart inside with the press of her hand, but mine too. Because, surely, this was what it felt like to leave your heart outside of your body. Raw and hollow, with only the memory of what could have been.
Chapter forty-five
Harkin
The thin stretch of forest separating Acsilla and Villaz Silven to the east was darker, more ominous than I remembered. Boughs from great, hulking trees blocked the sky from view. The winding dirt road was abandoned, and the shadows stretched long—washing the undergrowth along each side of my path in an unsettling gloom—though the sun had not yet sunk below the horizon.
The heaviness of my surroundings reflected my mood. I felt weighed down with my decision to leave, even if I knew it was likely temporary. I hated to be parted from Seren, but I knew it was what I needed if I ever had a hope of letting her go.
It was also true that I needed to have an honest conversation with my family. I owed them that, and so much more, but I dreaded it. I did not know how my mother would react to the things I had done. Would she understand that it had been for them? To protect them? Or would she look upon me differently? As the liar, thief, and murderer that I was.
I stroked Equinox’s warm neck and tried to think of what Seren would say to me—as someone who had forgiven me of these things—but I knew it was not the same. Seren understood why Ihad become a mercenary. She, too, had chosen a life of violence not knowing there was another option.
Villaz Silven opened up around me, woods and hills giving way to a spill of stonework. The village was small, merely a few dozen shops and homes surrounding a cobblestoned town square. Children played by the fountain, breath fogging in the frigid air around them. Water flowed steadily, despite the freezing temperatures. It was laced with mágik, ensuring it would never freeze or falter.
My eyes caught on Mr. Carmentis’ shop, the one I had broken into that fateful night—when I had first met Prince Claudian. It had different owners now, but I always felt that sweep of bone-deep guilt whenever I laid eyes upon it.
Bile turned my mouth sour.
Hooves clicked across the uneven stone as we passed, and I let it soothe me. My eyes drifted shut. I trusted my mare to deliver me home. She knew the way as well as I did. With a whicker and a toss of her head, Equinox alerted me that we had arrived at our destination.
I opened my eyes, taking in my home for the first time in so very long. It looked the same as it always had. The shutters were a bright blue-green, reminiscent of the sea my mother loved but so rarely visited. Soft light poured through the windows, half drawn with gauzy curtains. Smoke curled from the chimney, carrying the scent of a freshly cooked meal and burning oak.
The barn rose to the right of the house. Inside, I knew I would find two stories. The lower one held Equinox and the other animals. We had renovated the upper level into a flat, which was mine any time I visited. I knew all of my old things would still be there, waiting for me as they always were.
I dragged my feet to the front door of the small house. My heart sped, and my stomach turned. I had to remind myself to breathe—to hope. I lifted my fist and knocked, the sound hollow like the pit within me.
My mother answered the door.
Yvett Aranti looked much the same. Perhaps a few more smile lines crinkled aside her sparkling eyes. They glimmered with tears the moment she laid eyes on me.
“Harkin,” she breathed, throwing the door open fully and crushing me in a firm embrace. I sank into it with a heavy sigh.
“Who is it?” Adina called from the kitchen. She did not turn around, focused intently on the supper dishes as she scrubbed them in the basin.
“Come see, my love,” Yvett replied, her voice a flood of soothing warmth.
Adina looked over her shoulder, and the dishes slipped from her soapy hands. We cringed at the sound of ceramic crashing to the bottom of the basin, then laughed.
“Harkin!” Adina screamed, running across the room and launching herself into my arms. She reached my shoulder now, and my heart squeezed at the time I had missed. How many of her milestones had passed me by.
“Hello, little sister,” I rumbled happily, holding her close and pinching her side.
Adina let out a screeching laugh as she danced away. She lit up at my presence, and though I felt poorly about the time I had missed, I had never felt so grateful for my decision to be here, now.
“I’ve missed you both,” I said, letting my family pull me inside. The crackling hearth fire was a balm to my cold limbs.
