“You can’t just kiss him and walk away.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t a fucking kiss.”
“Lyrik, don’t leave like this. You’ll regret it.”
“Guess that’ll be the first time I’ve ever regretted something.”
I went feral. “But you love him!”
The cavernous words bounced off the cathedral of trees. A parliament of owls scattered into the canopy.
Like an axe hitting wood, Lyrik halted. Every muscle under those bedraggled clothes went stock still, his shoulders tensing, heat radiating from him in waves.
In a flash, he spun and stalked my way. No swagger in sight. No bullshit veneer. Just pure, unadulterated malice.
Fair enough since I had plenty of glare in me too.
Getting in my face, Lyrik hissed, “Say that to me again, and the next time you take a swig of water, I’ll make sure it burns off your fucking tongue.”
Big words for a big mouth. Except beneath the surface, torment lingered like a second layer of skin, as if more than a flesh-and-blood gash had been torn from him. Even now, this man hid secrets, motives he wouldn’t voice. As much as I hated to admit it, I’d be a hypocrite to judge that.
As for his heart, let him deny it. I knew a lie when I heard one.
I whispered, “You’re a fool.”
“I’m worse than that.” Instead of mockery, Lyrik stated this like a fact. “Bad guys make the story interesting. They raise the stakes.” He glanced sideways, his gaze turning remote. “But we never change. It’s in our blood.”
I blinked, suddenly more confused than wrathful. He hadn’t left Nicu empty-handed, wasn’t abandoning him out of cruelty. If anything, my friend’s future benefited from Lyrik’s relocation to Winter.
Yet Nicu wouldn’t come out of this separation unscathed, and there was more to this rogue’s uncharacteristic surrender, a sacrificial implication that dragged down his bulk.
For all his ambiguity, I had assumed Lyrik could justify his fate to Nicu. But maybe that choice was off the table. Forsome of us, clean breaks weren’t an option, and prolonging the hurt made it worse.
Before I could decide if I underestimated Lyrik, he charged down the walkway, vanishing into the mist like an illusion. Someone who had never really existed.
***
Jeryn and Flare’s mussed appearance said plenty. After what appeared to be a long night of aggressive fucking, in which they must have attacked one another for hours, the pair left the next morning.
Throughout the day, Nicu cast anxious gazes across every treehouse and platform. In particular, his eyes kept returning to the water well where the devil himself originally set a knife to Nicu’s pulse.
Lyrik must have discreetly hitched a ride to Winter at the enclave’s border, opting to leave without making a scene. From one troublemaker to another—and as someone who also lost my heart to a good person—Lyrik took off in secret to ease the blow. Saying goodbye would have hurt Nicu. And while that rogue had no qualms about fucking over anyone else, this didn’t apply to the Royal Son.
While chopping a pile of wood, I stalled. Across the distance, Nicu hovered outside the alchemy chamber, surveying the vacant space, his pupils jumping everywhere in confusion. His throat constricted, and those eyes glazed, lost in sadness.
He would ask himself what he’d done wrong. He would replay every moment, wondering if he could have said or done something differently, questioning if he could have changed the outcome.
At some point, all of us lived through this pain. But I wished to hell he never had.
Having learned the art of concealment from his parents, Nicu swallowed the turmoil, masking it well to anyone who hadn’t been here to see the evolution of his bond with Lyrik.
Catching his attention, I offered a small smile. Someday, it would get easier. I did my utmost to communicate that.
His lips twitched in a faint grin, then he turned from the cabin and sought refuge in chores. If he needed me, I would be there. Always.
My attention strayed from the heartrending sight to an uplifting one. Beneath an oak tree, Princess Briar spoke in hushed tones with Queen Avalea. As they shared a gentle laugh, Her Majesty set a loving palm on her daughter’s hand.
Two icons who rose above their losses. Two strong leaders who thrived against all odds.
