Fen sits in the large antique chair, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs—as if she’s trying to cave in on herself. Her face is buried in her knees, and I can hear faint sniffles coming from her. I glance to the left, where Larkin is sleeping in a chair near the hallway. His broad chest rises and falls peacefully, but his positioning looks miserable. His large body barely fits in the chair, but I can’t help but feel thankful he stayed by her side.
As our presence makes itself known, she slowly lifts her head in our direction.
She stands from the chair and runs toward us. Tears stream down her cheeks like fresh rain, and her eyes are swollen. She wraps her arms around both of us and squeezes tightly. Silas returns the embrace, encircling us, and I feel a sense of relief wash over us all.
Silas pulls away from the embrace and ushers Fen back to her chair to take a seat. I move toward Larkin and gently pat his shoulder. The touch startles him, and he jolts awake.
“Shit,” Larkin yelps.
“Go to bed,” I whisper. “We’re going to talk to Fen.”
Larkin looks around the room, spotting Silas, and gives me a sleepy nod. His gaze settles on Fen. He stays fixated on her, as if he can’t trust that she’s okay.
“Did Warrick already leave?” Larkin whispers.
“Yes.” I lean closer, not wanting to draw attention to us. “He’s going to…” I pause.
“You don’t have to say it, I know where he went.”
He looks back at Fenmore. “I didn’t know what to say to help.”
“Sometimes you can’t help.”
He nods.
“She’s going to be alright." I pat his shoulder and smile. “Now, go.”
His expression softens as he rubs his eyes. “Wake me if you need me. I’ll be down the hall.”
Larkin rises with a groan, his healing wound still tender, and shuffles down the long hallway, vanishing into the darkness.
I join Silas and Fen, sitting cross-legged on the floor around the warm fire, and pull a blanket around me. The chill from the night seems to have settled in my bones. Fen merely stares, her eyes darting between us, and as always, she clutches her necklace, using her finger to trace the smooth parts of the beautiful stone.
Silas starts, “First, what do you know?”
Fen slowly meets his stare. “I think everything?”
I stay quiet, giving them time to speak and work things out as siblings. My chest aches thinking about Barlowe and how I wish we had more time to discuss things. We were toostubborn and impatient. There are many things I regret about our relationship. I think of Maines’s offer of a ritual for closure, but I quickly shake the temptation from my mind.
“Alright, I’ll go ahead and start,” Silas responds into the silence. “Everything went terribly wrong tonight, Fen. Malachi killed Yara.”
She nods, and tears well up in her eyes again. A pang of pain strikes my chest at the sound of her name.
“Warrick is at the castle now, cleaning everything up. We are going to make sure she is laid to rest by her family.”
Fen responds, “I know that much. Warrick talked to me about that.”
Silas sighs and continues, “Malachi isn’t our father, and I’m grateful to have learned that. Although it’s about thirty years too late. He’s a real monster, just as we’ve known our whole lives, a Traveler—a leech that latched onto our family years ago—and now he’s gone.”
A sob leaves her throat. “Silas, you are the King of Andorwood now.”
“Yes.”
“Thank Gods.” She leans forward, hugging him once more.
“I know you know there is more,” Silas says, leaning away again.
The conversation falls silent, and Fen buries her head in her lap again. She hugs her legs tightly, allowing the words racing through her mind to sink in.
