Chapter Thirteen

SOREN

 

Cousins embraced, both of them sobbing, and Soren knew without a doubt he was in over his head. He had been for a while, in so many ways, but watching them made it so clear. They were a unit—two women, different women but bound together. He had somehow, without realizing it, become entirely wrapped up in both of them and he knew he would never be able to extract himself. But he also didn’t know what to do for them, how to comfort either of them right now. Or what was going to happen when Fauna found out the truth. What was he going to do if he had to pick sides?

He still wasn’t sure why he had kissed Fauna, except she had looked so terrified, staring right at him like she could see his soul. He had wanted to do whatever he could to take that look off her face. He couldn’t stand seeing her like that and he’d been so full of strange magic, his body had been aching to touch her, drawn to the witch magic inside her. And now her mother was dead and he’d pretended to be her fiancé and Briar had almost killed Vestia and had two bleeding knees and Soren was in so damn far over his head.

He sent a text to his father because he didn’t know what to do and after everything Ansel was still his dad. And he knew about Eliana, perhaps better than any of them. She’d broken him, changing him from the strong, iron-willed man who had raised Soren, to someone he barely recognized. Now, she was trying to do the same to Briar.

He imagined her, broken and desperate, calling on Nilaja. Part of him hated the Gods. They were nothing like he had imagined they would be, they were cruel and distant. Of course, Briar had sought out physical comfort, that’s who she was. Nilaja should have known better. Should have known the way it would eat at Briar. Should have known Briar was in love with someone else. He’d seen it, why couldn’t a God?

The two women sat side by side in a hospital waiting room set up right outside the morgue, far away from the worried families waiting on news, or the ecstatic families waiting on babies. The people who waited here had already lost all hope. The room was small and the air was stale. He didn’t know any of how this worked but he’d seen Vestia. It was clear what had happened—or at least what the public would think had happened.

Was bringing her body here just courtesy for Cliff Constance’s daughter? Did everyone go to the hospital before going to a funeral home? Soren didn’t know, but he wanted to help. She’d need something to wear for the funeral. He’d never been to her house. There would be so much to do. Gods, he didn’t know anything about this. He’d never lost anyone close enough to him to plan a funeral, but Fauna shouldn’t have to do it alone.

His legs seemed disconnected from his body but he forced them across the dated carpet and sat beside her. “Can I get you anything?”

Fauna shook her head before resting it on his shoulder. She was still crying but the tears were silent now, rolling gently down her face.

Briar watched her, a soft expression Soren had never seen before on her face. “This is my fault. I messaged Henrik. I’d called him…about the book. Eliana must have someone at the newspaper. This was a warning.”

Fauna wiped her hand across her nose. “We need to assume she can get anyone. She’s everywhere. We have to…we have to stop her soon.”

Soren locked eyes with Briar. They had tried. She’d beaten them. They had to be smarter, better at hiding their plans. She would strike before them every time if they let her. “We will,” he said, running his fingers along Fauna’s arm and he knew, deep down, what the answer was. He couldn’t say it yet, couldn’t admit it. But soon he would have to.

Suddenly, he wanted it to be real. He wanted to be holding his fiancée in his arms. He wanted to be in love. He wanted…more than he was going to get. He knew what people said happened after you died. The gentle river to the realm of the dead. Peace. Reunification. He knew the Gods were real but he didn’t know if he believed in a happily ever after. An eternal peace seemed far too much to ask for. Everyone said eternity was kind, that it was warm and snug and happy. That you would not want or need ever again.

He didn’t even know if that’s where he would go, or if the river would flow backward when he touched its waters. If it would hiss and spit and send him to Ortus to open the dam. To send his soul to suffer until he found retribution or was dissolved. Sent off to the stars.

Maybe everyone was full of shit. He should ask the Gods. If they could screw humans, in more ways than one, then they could certainly answer his questions about the afterlife. Especially, if he was going to offer himself to them. He just wasn’t sure he was brave enough.

A doctor—no, doctors were for the living. Medical examiner? Soren wasn’t sure. A gray-haired fae man in a white coat came out. “Ms. Constance? I’m so sorry for your loss.” He sat across from them. “There’s a bit more paperwork but there’s not much for me to look at. The cause of death is clear. All that’s left is to move her to the funeral home of your choosing.” He looked up. “Ah, Mr. Constance.”

Fauna went stiff in Soren’s arms as her grandfather came into the room and stood beside the man. He was a towering figure, the source of Briar’s height and blonde hair. Soren had never seen him look ruffled but today he did. His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it over and over and his eyes were bloodshot. “Sweetheart. I can handle it. You go home. Sleep.”

“Papa.” Fauna broke. Great heaving sobs tore through her body and Cliff Constance knelt at her feet. Beside Soren, Briar shook soundlessly, her face as pale as death.

Cliff wiped his thumb across Fauna’s cheek, brushing away her tears. “Let Mr. Savros take you home. This is not your fault, Faunie. Briar, your father is on the way. Let us handle this.”

“You aren’t supposed to plan your daughter’s funeral.” Briar’s voice was hoarse.

“It’s the last thing I get to do for her.” Tears welled in his eyes but did not fall and Cliff stood, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “Soren, take care of them.”

A vice tightened around Soren’s chest. He could feel each breath move through him. Cliff thought they were engaged. And Fauna…no longer heiress to a steel fortune but about to take the throne. He hadn’t even thought of it when he’d planned with Briar. He’d kissed Fauna and plotted to kill her mother.

A monster. Cliff Constance was asking a monster to take care of his granddaughters.

Soren nodded.

He would protect these women, no matter how much it hurt, no matter where it led. He would take care of them for as long as he could—even if it wasn’t much longer.

Briar stood. Her eyes were hollow but she offered a shaking hand to her cousin. Fauna was even worse, staring beyond her grandfather—who was now speaking to the coroner—and toward the door to the morgue. Toward her mother’s body. Where was her father? Soren knew almost nothing about him. Didn’t even know if he was in the city.

She deserved a real fiancé, a man who loved her completely. Someone should take her home tonight and tuck her into bed, then spend the rest of their life beside her, making sure she was okay. All she had was him.

Gently, he moved her head off his shoulder. She looked like she might collapse at any point. He wasn’t sure he could do this. He wasn’t strong enough for someone to lean on. They’d be better off with him gone.

Briar tugged on her hand, urging her up, but Fauna didn’t move. Her face was vacant, still staring ahead. Briar let go of her arm and it fell roughly back to her lap.

One arm under her legs and the other behind her back, Soren lifted Fauna.

She didn’t make a sound as he carried her out of the hospital, Briar trailing behind them. She buried her head in his chest and he tightened his grip on her.

His stomach dropped as they neared the doors. Reporters were outside. Photographers. Another news van. They clutched microphones and cameras in their hands. A pack of vultures ready to descend.

Briar pushed past him, golden magic sparking on her hands, and he saw the crowd tense. He didn’t care what she did. She could mow down every one of them for all he cared. He had never cared enough. He had stayed in his room while all those witches protested outside the Prime Minister’s house. And now they were dead and Eliana was back.

“Wait.” He hurried forward, careful not to jostle Fauna too much, worried she would soon be catatonic.

Briar shook her head as the mechanical double doors opened. The crowd of people seemed to take in a collective breath, eyes on the gold magic surrounding her. “Take a single picture and I’ll shatter your camera. Go home.”

Cameras lowered but no one moved.

Magic moved up her arms like a fog until it was around her neck. He couldn’t predict her next move and it frightened him. If Briar struck right now, she might kill someone. He balled his fist under Fauna’s legs and the temperature dropped. Someone gasped, eyes moving to him. “The lady said to go home.”

“Just a quick question.” A perky blonde reporter moved forward, microphone extended.

Everything happened in a flash. Briar yelled, an earthly noise full of pain and magic exploding out of her. The reporter fell backward and landed on her ass, microphone flying from her hand.

“Go. Home,” Briar repeated when the sparkle of magic receded, leaving her standing in the middle of a terrified crowd.

This time no one waited. They scurried away, back to the parking lot.

In his arms, Fauna started to weep and Soren rushed toward his car. He knew they would get their picture, huddled behind windows and peeking out of bushes, they’d find the shot. Part of him understood. It was their job; this story would be huge. The other part of him wanted to wrap his hand around their throats. Demand they leave them alone—couldn’t they see the family was grieving?

Briar stopped in front of him so suddenly he almost ran into her. Lillia was leaning on his car, her leather jacket zipped tight, her hands in the pockets.

“Lillia?”

She rushed forward and pulled Briar into her arms with murmurs Soren could not hear. She ran one hand down Briar’s hair, again and again, the other holding her close.

He left them alone, putting Fauna across his backseat. She looked so small and frail. Barely more than a girl. Someone to protect.

“I want to go home.”

“Okay.” He glanced back to Briar, wanting to help her, but he didn’t know what to do for her either. He was so lost, and the tide of uncertainty kept rising around him. He was the only one who could do anything right now, the only one not completely shattered, but it didn’t feel that way. He felt lost and hopeless. He knew he’d find himself, that he’d move forward and bring the others with him, but right now, Eliana had won. Vestia Constance was dead and her girls were broken and nothing he could say would fix any of it.

The world felt heavy. He didn’t know how to be strong when Briar wasn’t. He had never been the glue holding them together. Never been the heart. He’d just been…there. Following them along.

“I’ll follow you,” Lillia said, rubbing circles on Briar’s back.

He felt hollow as he drove toward Fauna’s apartment, lulled deep into his own thoughts by the passing lights and the gentle sounds escaping from Fauna. Nothing to say came to him. They’d murdered her mother and it had been for nothing. There was no gain. He kept playing through the day in his head.

He’d felt dirty when he’d left the book on Briar’s doorstep. He’d run away before she’d answered, trying to distance himself from the awful deed. He knew if she had succeeded there would have been a purpose, all this pain would have meant something. Now it just hurt.

“I’m not ready…I’m not ready to be her,” Fauna said, sitting up in the backseat. Soren could see her in the rearview mirror, pale and tear stained. “Can we just keep pretending? Can you help me get through this?”

“Of course,” he agreed, even though he knew it would hurt more in the end. Every memory would be another moment to miss when he was gone. But Soren wanted to pretend as well—to fit in as much life as he could before it ended.