CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Orion nearly wept when the silver wolf trotted back down the stairs, maw dripping and fur stained black. Up until a few seconds before, when their confines had disintegrated to dust, they had been utterly, excruciatingly helpless. Quinlan trudged down the steps right behind the wolf. Blood trickled from a large gash on his forehead, but other than that and a small collection of claw-shaped slashes that would easily heal, he seemed mostly unharmed. Rose and Luna tottered down the stairs last, holding Asterin upright between them.

Orion wrapped all three of them in a bone-crushing hug, but eventually Rose and Luna untangled themselves from the hug to give him and Asterin some space.

“I’m so sorry,” he croaked, blinking away the sudden onslaught of tears.

Asterin exhaled into his shoulder. “What for?”

“Everything.”

She lifted her face, eyes blazing. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

He closed his eyes, the reassurance of her physical presence washing over him. He stroked her hair. “I … I almost lost you. And it would have been all my fault.”

She nestled closer. “Not true.”

Orion felt Quinlan’s scalding glare before he saw it. Jealous? he mouthed.

Quinlan gifted him an obscene hand gesture in response.

Orion smiled, and then said to Asterin, “Also, can we talk about the random wolf that showed up out of nowhere?”

She reeled back, eyes wide with disbelief. “Random wolf? Are you joking? You don’t recognize him?”

Orion chuckled nervously. “No? I mean, yeah, I guess. He looks like Lord Conrye’s wolf form, but all wolves—”

Asterin groaned. “That is Lord Conrye’s wolf form, moron.”

“What?”

At that moment, Lord Conrye padded up to them, and Orion suddenly realized how huge he was. Even sitting, his ears came level with Asterin’s shoulders. And yes—there were those little half-crescent tufts marking the wolf’s brow in ice white, and of course, the eerily luminescent green eyes that matched the paintings and sculptures around the palace, but … somehow, though Orion and every other child grew up learning about the legends of the Immortals and the origins of magic, it was hard to believe that they actually existed somewhere—even in an unreachable dimension, like the Immortal Realm.

Conrye dipped his massive head, brushing his muzzle against Asterin’s curled fingers. She smiled and scratched him behind the ears.

Orion didn’t know what to do, so he got down on one knee. “L-Lord Conrye. An honor, Your … Godship.”

The god only yawned at him, revealing a flash of razor-sharp fangs. Suddenly, his ears perked and then flattened, lip curling back. He regarded Asterin for a moment before bowing his head, as if to say, I must go.

And then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone, swifter than wind on silent paws, racing out of the hole that the wyvern had made in the wall.

Rose and Luna reappeared at Asterin’s side, and Orion watched them help her out of the demolished building. Quinlan trailed on their heels, shooting Orion a final vehement glare on his way out.

Only now, when Asterin was safe, did the bitterness begin to seep in. Orion wanted to hate Quinlan for being stronger, for being Asterin’s hero when it should have been him—but how could he, after the Eradorian Prince and Lord Conrye had just saved them all, when he had been trapped and useless?

“Orion,” said Eadric from behind him.

“Isn’t it hard to believe that after everything that just happened, meeting an Immortal wasn’t even the craziest?” Orion said, trying to grin, but it felt like his face was cracking. Then he caught sight of Eadric’s own downcast eyes and realized that he didn’t need to fake his usual optimism.

“It’s over,” the captain murmured. “Asterin is alive, we’re alive. That’s all that matters. Let’s go.”

Luckily for them, Aldville was a large town, and they found alternative lodging without much difficulty. After resettling the horses, Eadric sent a messenger to the palace to request a clean-up crew, and they all gathered around the hearth in the commons—save for Asterin and Quinlan. Asterin retired to her room to rest, and Quinlan accompanied her so that he could monitor the toll that using so much magic had taken on her body.

And to guard her, Orion thought to himself. That little reminder stung like hell.

Orion shared a pot of tea with Rose, pouring and passing cups across the table in silence. Luna dozed on Eadric’s chest on the couch facing the hearth, the snoring captain’s arms wrapped around her. Orion tried to match their slow, unified breaths as he drank. Rose drained her cup and curled her knees up to her chest, giving a soft sigh before letting her eyes slip shut. Orion reached for the teapot, only to remember that he had emptied it on his last cup. The slumber he had found so easily in the evening eluded him now, leaving him restless and jittery. He drummed his fingers on his knees, gaze lingering on Eadric and Luna. A small coil of envy expanded in his chest. They looked perfect together, like two halves forming a whole, content in their own little world.

Orion sometimes wondered if he would ever be able to find that kind of happiness—not the fleeting moments in dark, hidden corners or behind locked doors tangled in silken sheets. He never kept track of those, not really. No, he wanted something more. Someone more. Someone who he loved and loved him back, more than anything in the world. You love Asterin, a voice in his head reminded him. But not in that way. He doubted he could ever be happy in a romantic relationship with her.

Eventually he did manage to drift asleep to the soothing crackle of the hearth, empty teacup still in hand—but after what felt like no more than a few minutes, he awoke to a shout, his cup shattering on the floor. His clothes were drenched in sweat, and his throat hoarse. He realized the shout had come from him. Heart thundering, he gradually came to his senses. Still panting, he licked his cracked lips, tasting salt. He must have had a nightmare, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it had been about—although even now he couldn’t shake the sensation that he was falling down a bottomless hole.

A hand gripped his shoulder. His hazy vision sharpened to find Rose crouched at his side, face grim.

“Hey,” she said gently, offering him a glass of water. “Hey, you’re here. It’s all right.”

Orion clutched the glass like a lifeline, stomach roiling with nausea. His eyes darted around the room. Eadric and Luna had vanished from the couch. “What time is it?”

“The sun won’t be up for another few hours,” she said. “Everyone else has gone to bed.”

He hauled himself out of the armchair, straightening a crick in his neck. “Except for you, Your Majesty?”

Her lips curved into a semblance of a smile. “I suppose so.” She cocked her head, contemplating him. “You wouldn’t happen to remember what your nightmare was about, would you?”

His palms turned clammy. “No.”

“You were shouting, ‘Don’t go.’ Over and over.”

Orion looked away. “It was just a stupid dream.”

“My dreams led me to Axaris,” Rose said. “And when I dreamt that my father would die at the end of my uncle’s sword, he was dead by morning.”

“Uncle? You mean …” His eyes widened. “Quinlan’s father?”

Rose tipped her chin. “His violent, abusive father, yes. No one outside of the family ever learned of how my father actually died—just another one of Eradore’s best-kept secrets.”

Her sarcasm bit him. “Listen, Rose …” He bowed his head. “About my suspicions when you and Quinlan first arrived in Axaris … I never meant—”

Rose pinned him down with a flat stare. “Not everything is about you, Orion,” she said. Those words hurt even more, nailing into something deep inside him.

“I just—I find it difficult to open myself up to people,” Orion admitted. “And to trust them. A long time ago …” His throat closed up and he found himself unable to continue.

Rose sighed. “You know, I once had someone I would have died for ten times over. In the end, he broke my heart. It took me years to learn how to trust again, but when I did …” She shook her head. “All I’m saying is that you should learn to give people a chance, Orion.”

He was struck by the pain reflected in her eyes, and he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the hypnotizing flecks of charcoal amongst the gold. He had to remind himself that despite being the Queen of Eradore, she was still just a nineteen-year-old girl. “I’ll—I’ll try.”

“I didn’t want to trust the visions that led me to all of you at first,” Rose told him quietly. “I had them every night. And every night, I saw a girl. Fighting. Every damn night, without fail, until I set foot in your city.”

He swallowed his dread and dared ask, “Fighting who?”

“Darkness itself.” Rose turned toward the window, fixated on a horizon Orion couldn’t see. “She was the only shield against a tidal wave of shadows, but alone, she didn’t stand a chance against them. They fell upon her like scavengers over a festering carcass.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “And every time, as the shadows feasted upon her ravaged soul, a woman would emerge from the darkness.” After the slightest of hesitations, Rose stepped toward the hearth and bent down to scoop up her satchel. From a side pocket, she removed a small object and passed it to him.

Orion frowned. It was a tiny iron figure of a butterfly, the patterns etched into its wings set with intricate swirls of black amethyst. He turned it gently in his hands and winced. The tip of a wing had nicked his palm. “What is this?”

“After my mother died a few weeks ago, I found this among her possessions. From the moment I touched it, I knew there was something wrong. It has an unnatural energy—a dark energy, just like the shadows in my visions. And that night, my visions changed. Instead of the shadows overcoming the girl, they were overcoming my kingdom. I could do nothing to stop them. But just when I thought all hope was lost, a silver wolf appeared and banished the shadows. And right before I woke up, it told me to come here. So I sent scouts to Axaria. None returned. I never planned such a prolonged absence from Eradore, but I’m not leaving until I know for certain that my people will be safe.”

“Hold on.” Orion frowned. “I’ve seen this figurine before. Asterin has one in her room.”

Rose’s expression darkened. “Do me a favor. When we get back to Axaris, burn it to ashes.”

“What in the world for?” Orion spluttered.

“Each of the members of the Council of Immortals represents an animal. Lord Conrye and his wolf, Lady Ilma and her vipers, Lord Tidus and his serpent. Eoin, the God of Shadow, out of all the creatures in his kingdom, chose the black butterfly.”

Orion rubbed his temple. “In my dream, I think I was falling.” The confession dredged up a vague recollection. “Falling and falling. Endlessly. But it couldn’t have been some kind of literal warning, right?” He chuckled half-heartedly. “That kind of thing would be impossible.”

The silence dragged on and on, the cold in Orion’s stomach only growing colder as the last of the smoldering embers faded upon lumps of blackened coal.

“In a world of magic,” Rose said slowly, and he saw pity in her expression. “Nothing is impossible.”