Because it allowed her to stay close to the son she could not abandon when everyone else already had.
The son she insists is not the monster the stories claim.
The Winter Lord who murdered his staff and drowned his wife. Who froze his world so that we all might suffer with him.
Legends that have haunted Brunemar for more than a hundred years.
So which do I believe?
The mother who humbles herself to serve meals and sweep stone floors if it means protecting her son? Or the whispered tales that cling to Luceran’s name like frost, refusing to melt no matter how much time passes?
As I watch the Aurevault rise again, I realize that perhaps the truth, like the mine itself, has been buried beneath layers of rubble for far too long, and perhaps, one day soon, I will have to decide which version of him I am willing to stand beside.
Pax emerges from the mouth of the mine.
Relief floods me, but it falters as he draws closer and I see the cost of survival written plainly across him. One eye is swollen shut, dark with bruising. A deep purple shadow stains his jaw, and his right arm is bound tight in a sling, held awkwardly against his body.
When he reaches me, I move before I can stop myself, throwing my arms around his neck.
He hisses sharply when I jar his injured shoulder, but then he lets out a soft laugh anyway, his good arm coming around to rub my back.
“I’m glad you’re safe too, Neve,” he says quietly.
I pull back before the moment can linger too long, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I draw in a steadying breath. “How many did we lose?”
Pax swallows. For a moment, he can’t quite meet my eyes.
“They’re still counting,” he says at last. “There are still many missing.” His chest shudders as he exhales. “But it could have been far worse. We could have lost every soul in Vein Two if not for you.”
I shake my head fiercely. “You and I would have been lost as well if Lord Luceran hadn’t arrived when he did. If he hadn’t put out the fires.”
Pax nods, but the motion is stiff, reluctant. “How is our lord?”
The tone of his voice is carefully flat, and I can’t tell which answer he’s hoping for.
“I believe he’ll recover,” I say. “But the first few days… it was close.”
“That is… excellent news,” Pax replies, though the words don’t quite ring true. “You must have taken very good care of him.”
I swallow hard, my fingers trembling despite my best efforts. I manage a small smile. “I did what I could.”
“And your master, in his great generosity, has put you straight back to work,” Pax says dryly. “I’d expect nothing less.”
He gestures broadly toward the Aurevault. “As you can see, the Fae rebuilt it good as new. Who’s going to let a few dozen human lives interfere with Elarium production?”
And suddenly, I understand.
The bitterness in his voice. The anger simmering just beneath his restraint.
The miners are forced to work these tunnels endlessly, dangerously, shackled to debts most will never pay off in their lifetime. I’ve seen the records in the castle, sentences handed down for crimes as small as stealing a cabbage to feed a starving family. Who knows what would have become of them if the mine had been destroyed forever?
Whatever it was, it might have been better than this.
Instead, the Fae rebuild the Aurevault in the blink of an eye. They cannot risk losing something so valuable. Not the humans, of course. The Elarium. So, for once, theygiveinstead of taking, arriving in great numbers, working with astonishing speed, restoring everything back to order.
Fortheirsake.
And then they send the miners back underground.
