Luka
Kol immediately left at my request for something to eat, leaving me alone with Elm in the greenhouse. I could have cut the awkward tension with a knife and buttered toast.
I couldn’t help but shudder as the icy wind blew around me, my stitches stretching and pulling with every gust. The chill was heavy and relentless, making the tension that much more oppressive.
Elm sank back against the wall, both hands resting inside his pockets. The greenhouse was full of the sweet, pungent smell of herbs. It made my head swim just to breathe it in — earthy yet citrusy and delicate all at once, just like the scent of feyrie magick.
I watched him cautiously as he studied the plants, his face still hidden in shadow. He’d been so quiet since he arrivedm I’d almost forgotten he was even there. It was rare to see him look so distraught, but it was written plainly on his face like he didn’t care that I saw.
Suddenly, as if he’d only just remembered my presence, Elm turned to look at me. “Let’s get you back to the infirmary before you rip open that hole. It’s one thing for Kol to be up and about, but if Fern catches you both missing, she’ll shit down my throat.”
He strode past me, not even making a single glance in my direction to make sure I had kept up with his pace. I had to scramble to catch up. The snow crunching beneath my boots as I carefully navigated the gentle slope towards the front entrance. The layer of white powder had swept across town overnight, providing a picturesque contrast to the crisp winter air. I breathed in deeply as I made my way up, taking in the moment and admiring the beauty of nature’s landscape all around me. The sun was slowly setting in the distance, painting an array of colors that blended seamlessly from pink to orange and purple over the mountain’s peak.
I reluctantly tore my gaze away from the glistening peak of the mountain, trudging back inside the confines of the fortress. Warmth seeped into my skin as soon as I slammed the door behind me.
Neither of us said a word as we walked back to the empty white room. He didn’t need to ask me how much I had heard, and I didn’t feel the need to offer any details.
But I’d heard enough. I’d followed Kol outside even when he’d told me to stay put, and waited outside in the frigid air, hidden behind the winterberry bushes as Rhen ran out crying.
The amount of restraint I’d had to exercise was almost overpowering. I so desperately wanted to barge in and demand an apology from him, but I knew it wouldn’t have made a difference. My body trembled as I tried to contain myself, my jaw clenched tightly together, and my fists balled at my sides. But no matter what emotions were surging through me, I stayed rooted to my spot making no sound or gesture.
It didn’t matter how much pain Elm was in regarding his father; it gave him no right to speak to Rhen like that. Still, I’d waited to hear exactly what the sylph had to say.
Only for him to reveal something so big. Elm denied it, of course, but even I could taste the palpable lie through the metal walls.
He loved her. And Elm was just doing what Elm did best—shove those closest to him away. He’d done it to me. To Emeri.
But Rhen was different. Despite his persistent efforts, he couldn’t bring himself to simply walk away from her the same way he had left us.
And Kol knew it. Saw it for what it was. Called him out on his bullshit.
“What happened to him?” I posed the question just as Elm was about to depart and leave me alone in the infirmary, my expression and voice barely above a whisper. He suddenly stopped in his tracks and shifted his gaze towards Kol’s empty bed.
He swallowed, eyes dropping to the floor in a guilty conscience. “He stepped in to save her when I couldn’t. He kept her from being mauled by a kaanhound, and it ripped his wings to pieces.”
Surprise lodged in my throat. I’d noticed the bald patches on his wings, but I hadn’t realized just how severe his injuries likely had been. It left me stunned that he’d risked his life like that for her. A sylph without his wings was like a mother without her child. He must have known that his sacrifice could have very well meant he’d never fly again, yet he’d selflessly protected her despite it.
“Tell him thank you for me.”
Elm scoffed as he looked up at me, but his eyes quickly softened and radiated warmth. “Tell him yourself, Lukai.”
“You should tell her,” I blurted, a bitter taste in my mouth.
He tensed, every muscle in his body rigid. He slowly raised his head from where he was standing in the doorway, his eyes cautiously scanning mine. “What do you mean?”
I contemplated revealing what I had overheard, but I put the sylph’s theory to the test. If it proved false, then at least no harm was done by keeping my mouth shut. But on the off chance that what he said was true —
“You should tell her you’re sorry for whatever shit you said that made her run past me, crying.”
His face contorted with sadness, and his shoulders dropped. Before he turned away and left me alone in the isolated white room, he heaved a deep sigh. “I know.”
It was etched all over his face, the pain, the remorse. He had hurt her, and it broke his soul.
A half hour later, Kol slammed open the door with a grand entrance, wearing a bright pink apron that had the words MY MEAT IS GOING IN YOUR MOUTH emblazoned across it. He followed my gaze and chuckled to himself.
“Got it last year for Candleneigh. It was meant to be a gag gift, but I think I look pretty sexy in it.” He winked, then noticed his bed, neatly made. He immediately turned serious.
“That’s odd. Did Fern come in while I was gone?”
I shook my head and smiled warmly at him. “No. I fluffed your pillow for you. You looked really uncomfortable, so I thought—”
“That was,” he started, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he spoke, “really nice. Thank you.”
Telling him he was welcome felt a bit odd, so I just smiled sheepishly. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, I’ve got some dinner cooked. But if you want, I can just bring it to you.”
“No.” I almost shouted, then quieter. “No. I think I’m going to go insane if I stay in here much longer.”
Kol traversed the room quickly, outstretching his hand and offering me aid as I stood from the bed. His scent was fragrant, a combination of spices both familiar and foreign to me. I could make out basil and oregano, but couldn’t place some of the subtler notes that lingered in the air. With the greenhouse outside and Elm’s flora magick, it made sense.
I followed him out past the living area until we arrived in the kitchen. It was clear this wasn’t a grand, ornate kitchen like that of the palace, but it was much bigger than the one I had grown up in. It was definitely large enough for several people to function and cook comfortably.
In the far corner of the room stood a slim rectangular table and a few worn wooden chairs, two of which were taken. Their occupants sat in silence, as if deep in thought. The light was faint, barely illuminating the table’s surface beneath the hovering dust particles.
Rhen and Elm were seated opposite each other in a tense silence, neither of them making eye contact with the other. As soon as I walked into the room, Rhen’s face lit up - only partially out of relief that she had someone else to focus her attention on. She’d been trapped in an uncomfortable situation for far too long, and was grateful for anything that could distract her from the awkwardness that seemed to have taken over the room. Her expression almost seemed to plead with me to come and join them.
“Lulu!” She carefully moved her chair over and gave the one she had just vacated a gentle pat. And for a brief moment, I was taken back to all the meals we’d shared at the palace. When everything was—-a lot less complicated.
Kol slowly made his way to the counter and scooped out the creamy dish of cheesy pasta into four separate bowls. He carried them back to the table with a certain pride in his step. He placed each bowl down in a neat line, ensuring that everyone got their own portion. We all huddled around the table, holding our forks in anticipation as we waited for him to take his seat beside Elm.
It was delicious, whatever it was. The presentation wasn’t as refined as something Em or my mom would make, but it was hot and filled with homey warmth. There was something about the meal that seemed so familiar, while being unique enough to intrigue me.
I almost hunched over, trying to eat the noodles as quickly as possible, but then when I looked up for a moment, my gaze met Kol’s. He watched me intently; his eyes were piercing and almost uncomfortable in their directness. It felt like he was seeing right through me and my thoughts. It was an unnerving sensation that left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. When our gazes locked briefly, before I looked away, there was something unspoken between us that I couldn’t quite define.
Normally not conscientious of people watching me eat, I dropped my eyes back to the bowl. But I couldn’t shake the feeling of his eyes locked on me. I scooped up the melted cheese onto my fork, eagerly watching as the molten gooey substance slowly made its way from the plate to my awaiting mouth.
When I had finished my meal, I was just about to ask for seconds when there was a loud bang at the door. I jumped in surprise and quickly glanced around the room. Both Elm and Kol shot up, their hands reaching for their weapons that were usually strapped to their side. Apparently, neither had been expecting company.
Rhen and I stared at each other, the air in the room becoming thicker with silence. Three figures emerged from the doorway. Kol slid back into his chair, seemingly uninterested in our guest.
Rhen’s fork clanged to the floor as she stood, her eyes wide as she recognized the figure behind Elm. Milky white eyes shined under the low hanging feylights.
In disbelief, Rhen’s mouth fell open. “Ayesha?”