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I will not thank him for feeding me; a bird in a cage does not sing for the man who put her there.
“I am not a saddlebag to be lashed to your horse, nor a sack of barley to be tossed about without care.” “True,” he mutters. “Barley would make for far more tolerable company.”
Lol
Centipedes. Not the small, screech-inducing bugs I’d glimpsed scurrying across the floor of the storage closet back at Eli’s cottage. These are a giant variety I’ve never seen, never even fathomed, except perhaps in legends of old. Each as long as a horse and as wide as a barrel, with hundreds of legs jutting from either side of their armored insectile bodies. A pale, putrid white hue, they remind me of maggots. And they reek—an acidic stench that stings my nostrils and makes my eyes water.
Disgusting
To my surprise, Penn answers. “When I found you, I suspected but wasn’t certain which of the four elements you controlled. After the bridge, I knew for sure.” He stares at me, eyes glittering. “You are a wind weaver. You are Air. Air, awoken.”
And so I go. But I leave my heart behind in that blood-drenched camp. Back with Jac and Mabon and Uther, the soldiers who have forced themselves inside its chambers, becoming friends despite all odds. Back with Penn, the man who has saved me again and again, even when I’ve punished him for it.
“A wind weaver in my colors. That is something I never thought to see again in all my days.” His colors.
But only four souls bear a Remnant mark. One for each of the elements. Water, air, fire, earth.”
“Anwyvn was once one great kingdom, ruled by a single fae emperor. During his rule, maegic was not seen as a scourge to be extinguished, but as a gift to be embraced. Humans and high fae lived in harmony, even interbred without consequence. It was supposedly an age of great peace.”
After the empire fell, maegic became punishable by death. Bloodline mixing was outlawed. Anyone with even a trace of power was hunted down and killed. It’s been that way ever since. For two hundred years.”
“Four elements. Four Remnants, reincarnated in flesh and blood. A fated tetrad, bearing the marks of the gods. Scattered across the land. Should all four come together and be bound as one, the balance will be restored. Maegic will return, the blight will end, the land will recover, all will rejoice. Bounty, glory, et cetera.”
“We’ve never found the final element,” he says bluntly. “Earth. Not once. Not one single trace of them. Not in all my many years.
“I wasn’t aware you were capable of loving anything besides your own reflection.”
Such enduring vitriol is only possible because it feeds upon the fuel of a ruined friendship. For what is hate but love turned poison?
“Brothels to visit?” Uther guesses. “I’m surprised that wasn’t your first stop this afternoon.” “Who’s to say it wasn’t?” Jac’s dark blond brows waggle suggestively. “It was a long, lonely winter on the range. Buxom Brenda and her ample charms are worth a second visit.” “Don’t you worry your fist will get jealous?”
“Were you in love with her?” A biting, bitter scoff flies from his lips. “Who could not love a bird with a broken wing? Who could resist the urge to take her in, to set her bones, to keep her safe until she was strong enough to fly?”
He clobbers me from behind with something much harder than a fist. It feels like a plank of wood or the hilt of a sword. Stars burst in my visual field, fragmenting the world around me into a kaleidoscope of colors. I go down in a heap of limbs, landing face down in a puddle. I feel the dirty water seep through the fabric of my dress, into my skin. Then I feel nothing at all.
Oh shit
“Fucking hell, Rhya!” His eyes bore into mine, aglow in the darkness. “I don’t give a damn about the prophecy. Not anymore. I care about you.”
“What if I want you complicating my life? What if I told you I can’t sleep or see straight without knowing you’re safe? What if I said just the thought of you being hurt, being killed, is enough to tear me to shreds?”
“Rhya.” His voice is very nearly a caress. “Some grief is too heavy to carry alone. Let go of it. Give it to me. I will carry it for you.”
“Home?” he whispers finally, voice gruff. Such a small word. Such enormous implications. It scares me, but I say it anyway. “Home.”
“If Anwyvn were a man, the leylines would be the veins beneath his skin. Instead of blood, they ferry maegic. Usually, they are invisible to the naked eye. Inaccessible. Except in spots where the maegic is particularly potent.” “Like the cavern behind the falls?” He nods. “There are certain spots where the fabric of the world stitches together. Like a seam joining two sides of a garment. Power pools naturally in those places.
“Sometimes, affection is most apparent in the things left unsaid, the actions left untaken.” Yale’s tone is flat. “Sometimes, the deepest love disguises itself as indifference—for to reveal it would be to lay oneself bare.
For so many years, I feared the darkness inside. All my life, afraid of what I was. Of who I was. I’d been running long before I ever left Seahaven. Holding back those clouds for fear of what would happen if I allowed them to close in. I am not running anymore.
