Page 153 of Duskbound

"Nothing, of course." I laughed, but my attention had shifted to Aether. He stood there, clearly uncomfortable with the social niceties, making no attempt to hide it. No false smiles, no practiced pleasantries. Just him, unapologetically himself. Something warm took root in my chest at the realization—how he never pretended to be anything other than what he was. Even now, when diplomacy might serve him better.

I pulled Osta into a tight hug, trying to convey everything I couldn't say. "I promise we'll speak soon."

She whispered against my hair, "I love you."

"I love you too," I said, but the words caught in my throat.

When we pulled apart, Osta merely turned towards Aether and patted his chest. "Take care of her," she said, like he wasn't the most lethal person she'd ever met. Like he wasn't a warrior who could tear armies apart. I watched his expression shift at the touch, his shoulders going rigid, and had to bite back a laugh as Osta simply skipped back toward the Soleils, completely unfazed.

Aether cocked his head to the side, and I merely shrugged.

"So that's the best friend?" he asked, still looking slightly stunned.

"The very one."

"I'm still doubtful about your judgment." But when I nudged him, he finally broke into a full smile. My breath caught—he was devastating like this, all sharp edges softened by that dimple, those golden eyes bright with amusement. Perhaps he truly was the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen.

We mounted the Vördr as Lord Soleil took a few steps forward.

"Good luck," he said with a solemn nod, which Lady Soleil mirrored. Eron offered a simple wave.

As we guided the Vördr to a clear spot for takeoff, my mind raced with everything that awaited us in Sídhe. But as Tryggar's wings spread wide, preparing to launch us into the sky, I felt Aether's presence behind me like an anchor. Whatever came next, at least we were in this together.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Tryggar's wingscast rippling shadows across the forest floor as we descended into the Grove. The ancient trees reached toward us with gnarled fingers, their branches still bare from winter's touch. I paused, taking everything in—the smell of fresh flowers, the cool breeze rolling in from the Highlands up North. I glanced over at Aether, whose eyes had fallen to the ground, some unreadable expression crossing his face.

"This isn't anywhere near the Western border," he said quietly, dismounting Nihr beside me.

"No." I ran my hand along Tryggar's neck, feeling his muscles twitch beneath my palm. "But it's where the Compound is—where they keep the blood oaths. All of them." I turned toward the city sprawling beyond the trees, its towers piercing the morning sky. "This is Luminaria."

"The Grove stays relatively empty outside of solstice celebrations," I explained, but my voice faltered as memories flooded back—Bekha and Jordaan, their silent screams echoing through these very trees as my focus tore through their minds. Laryk's face when he found me, his eyes observing me with something dark—understanding, maybe. Or pity. That was the moment everything changed.

Now I stood in the same spot, a different person entirely.

I turned to Tryggar, pressing my forehead against his. "Stay hidden," I whispered. "No more curious impulses like in Riftdremar." His dark eyes held mine, and I felt an unfamiliar ache—wondering if my father had once spoken to him like this. "Stay safe."

Nihr was already melting into the treeline, but Tryggar lingered for a moment, nudging my hand before following.

"There's somewhere we need to go first," I said, turning to Aether. "The Apothecary."

His brow furrowed. "The one you used to work at?"

"Yes. There's someone I need to see." I moved toward the city's edge, where shadow met stone. "Someone important."

Aether fell into step beside me as we dissolved into darkness, flowing from tree to tree until forest became alleyway. Luminaria sprawled before us in all its glory—white marble and gilded towers reaching toward the clouds, streets paved with stones that sparkled in the sunlight between all of the vines and moss, canals breaking the city into pieces. Once, I'd found it beautiful. Now I saw it differently—every shimmering surface seemed to mock the ash-covered streets of Ravenfell.

"So this is how the other half lives." Aether's voice carried a dry edge as we melted between shadows, going in and out of our spectre forms. "Rather gaudy, isn't it?"

I glanced up at the towering domes, their golden caps catching sunlight. Everything gleamed with an artificial brightness that made my eyes ache. "It does feel... different now."

"Different how?"

We pressed against a wall as a merchant cart rattled past, the sound of its wheels against cobblestone almost deafening.

"Like a mask," I whispered once the street cleared. I led us downanother alley, this one darker, safer. "When I lived here, I thought the city was beautiful."

Aether's shadows curled around mine as we moved. "And this Apothecary— it's worth the risk of being seen?"

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