I didn’t just want him to give in, though. I needed him to understand. “I’ve suffered for far more pointless things than this. At least this has a purpose and I choose to endure it. I won’t be bound to you like this forever, Bastian. It isn’t fair on either of us.”
Lips pressed together, he clenched and unclenched his hands. After a moment, he threw them down at his sides and started towards me. “But I don’t want you to—”
A knock echoed through from the main door to the suite.
His eyes screwed shut as he called, “Enter.”
Brynan filed in, followed by Asher, Rose, Faolán, and a man with black hair that gleamed purple and blue when it caught the light.
The meeting. Of course. As part of bringing his work to the suite, Bastian had arranged for us all to gather here to discuss the Circle of Ash.
I gave a tight smile as Rose caught my eye and raised an eyebrow. Meanwhile, at her side, Faolán gave Bastian a similar, questioning look.
“This is Lysander.” Bastian ignored his shapechanging friend and gestured towards the stranger. “Better known as Ariadne’s husband.”
Lysander shot him a frown. “Thanks,” he drawled before approaching me and offering his hand and a smile that dimpled his cheeks. “Ari’s told me a lot about you.”
I looked from his hand to my gloved one. It was safe. I shook it, hoping my smile didn’t look too rictus. “And she’s told me all about you, too.”
It was sweet how smitten she clearly was with the fae who had “stolen” her, setting in motion Rose’s journey into Elfhame and subsequently meeting Faolán. Quite the chain reaction, the Night Queen had caused when she’d sent Lysander to enact the Tithe.
We sat and Bastian summoned tea and coffee with a word. Faolán poured coffee for Rose and himself before offering the pot to Lysander, who declined and produced a notebook from his pocket. I ran and fetched my notes, returning to find everyone seated and a space left on the settee next to Bastian.
“How’s Gael?” I asked Brynan while Bastian poured coffee for me and himself.
Much-needed coffee. I couldn’t get through the day without several cups, thanks to my nightmare-interrupted sleep.
“Better.” He sighed and nodded. “Thanks for asking. I hope you’re…” He raised his eyebrows. “Recovered?”
Bastian cleared his throat. “So, the Circle of Ash.”
Brynan nodded and rolled a large sheet of paper out over the table, pinning it down with the cups and pots. He sat poised with a pen.
Bastian took us all in. “What do we know so far?”
“It’s rumoured to end the Sleep,” Brynan said, writing as he did.
“Dawn is on its trail.” Rose sat back, both hands wrapped around her drink, but her tense expression belied her apparent calm.
At her side, Faolán growled.
“And they gained information from a text in Albion,” Asher added, stirring honey into his tea. “A text written by the Lark.”
“Then there’s its name.” Lysander wrinkled his nose. “Though I wish I could get hold of the original text. I’m sure Gael decoded it correctly, but whoever wrote the note must’ve mistranslated.”
I scoffed. “Agreed. The Circle of Ash isn’t much of a name for a grand and powerful artefact.”
Lysander flashed me a smile. “Exactly.”
Bastian made a low sound that was almost thoughtful, but it reminded me of Faolán’s growl. “Well, that name is all we have so far. I know Katherine’s been conscious of anything circle adjacent in her reading.” He gave a smile as warm as my coffee. “I trust you’ve been doing the same, Lysander.” This smile was much, much cooler.
A certain tension around Lysander’s eyes suggested he was struggling not to roll them. “Of course.”
“So…” I sat forward, reaching for the cream. Bastian grabbed it for me, along with the sugar, and added a generous amount of both to my cup. “What might this Circle of Ash actually be, then?”
“A ring?” Rose shrugged.
“A ceremonial platter. A wreath. A carved disc of wood with some ritual use.” Lysander ticked off the possibilities on his fingers, while Brynan wrote them down one side of the paper.
“Might not be an item but a place.” At Faolán’s gravelly voice, I sat up.
“What do you mean?” Bastian asked, mirroring me.
“Could be a circle of ash trees. You know, growing.”
“You mean, a specific grove somewhere.” Bastian’s eyes widened as though he hadn’t considered that possibility. He nodded slowly, gaze distant and thoughtful. “We’ve been so focused on the circle… what about the ash? It could be the tree itself, but what else?”
“The wood from the tree, obviously.” Rose rubbed the edge of her cup.
With a nod, Bastian smiled at her. “Let’s not assume anything is obvious. What is ash wood used for?”
“Axles.” Faolán nodded. “It’s strong.”
“Healing and protection.” Asher tugged his lower lip.
Rose pointed her cup at him. “There’s also you. Asher.”
A ripple of laughter ran through the group, easing the sense that we were missing something. Of course we were—that was why this relic or grove or whatever it was had sunk into obscurity.
“Ash is the best firewood,” I murmured as my gaze landed on the fireplace.
Every pair of eyes turned to me. All but Rose frowned. “Fae fires don’t consume fuel in the same way, so I’m not sure you’d realise, but ash burns for a long time with intense heat.” I’d rarely been able to afford it, but one cold winter, when I brought Vespera inside to stop her freezing to death, I’d gone through the house and picked out every item of ash furniture and chopped it up for firewood. That was the main reason we’d survived.
“She’s right.” Rose nodded. “Ma and Pa use it if they need the ovens burning for a long time.” No surprise she knew about fires—she came from a family of bakers.
“Then there are ashes,” I added, lifting one shoulder.
Faolán’s eyebrows lowered. “But a circle of them wouldn’t last long.”
“True.” I laughed at myself. “Sorry, I was caught up in ideas.”
“Don’t apologise.” Bastian’s warm hand closed on my knee, the unexpected gesture making my heart trip. He didn’t seem to notice Faolán’s frown deepening as his gaze fixed on that contact. I wasn’t sure he even realised he was touching me. “Nothing is obvious and no idea is foolish. Not while we’re still groping around in the dark.”
Rose jabbed an elbow into Faolán’s ribs and he looked away.
“And some of us are groping around in the light.” Lysander arched an eyebrow.
When Bastian turned to him, he jerked his chin at my knee.
Throat bobbing, Bastian slid his hand onto his own knee.
“She is married, if you recall.”
My blood simmered. Was Robin destined to dog my steps, even in Elfhame? I shot Lysander a sharp smile. “And she is here, if you recall. My marriage is none of your business, but if it was, I’d tell you that I didn’t choose it. An arranged marriage might’ve worked out well for you and Ari, but we aren’t all so lucky.”
An icy silence froze the room.
I bit my tongue. Too late, though, wasn’t it?
At my side, Bastian’s knuckles were white on his own knee. I’d let him down, stamping all over the fae rules of politeness. I should’ve stopped after my first sentence—that would’ve put Lysander on notice without causing this awkwardness.