That had been the last of the leads—or the last dead end as Bastian had grumbled—so here I was, ready for another journey out into Elfhame.
“As a sign of how seriously the throne—both thrones”—the Night Queen gestured to the prince at her side—“take this attack, I am sending my most trusted advisor on a vital mission.”
Bastian stepped forward, his black clothing and black hair absorbing the fae light. Shadows flowed from his shoulders, heightening the effect, and the crowd strained forward, many nodding at the show of power.
“Bastian Marwood, I charge you to uncover the foul villains acting against us.”
Also technically not a lie. But not the whole picture, either.
When Bastian had tabled the idea of venturing to the oldest and most powerful of the Ladies of the Lake, she’d only agreed to it if, instead of asking about Hydra Ascendant, he used his one question to ask about the Circle of Ash. She didn’t know that we planned for him to obey, while I would ask my own question about the Ascendants.
The way she described it to the approving crowd made it sound like she was working for them rather than for her own desires to lift the Sleep.
A masterclass in fae deception.
I took in every word, and once her speech was done, I travelled with Rose and Faolán down to the city gates and rode out to a copse of cedars. Five minutes later Bastian arrived on his stag.
All this so folk wouldn’t know I was travelling with him.
I rolled my eyes as I pulled off the oversized cloak and handed it to Rose. Beneath, I wore much more practical clothing—shirt, trousers and a close-fitting coat that Ariadne had made for me, sewing magical warmth into its fine wool so I’d be cosy in the cold north.
Bastian’s back stiffened, but he turned to Faolán, giving him some last instructions for while we were gone.
We said our goodbyes, and I patted my stag’s shoulder. Bastian had suggested I bring Vespera, promising that he would take care of tack and grooming. But she was too fond of butting her head into me, and I couldn’t risk it. The idea of poisoning her as I had Ella made me feel sick. The stags weren’t so affectionate.
Bastian barely looked at me as we turned and rode out.
He’d been wound tight since the attack with more and more weight upon his shoulders, not to mention busy.
And, frankly, I was a coward. I hadn’t raised the question of us, not after the way he’d rejected my advances. Either I’d misread the meaning behind his vow, or it was merely that he didn’t want to kiss me in front of everyone.
I kind of didn’t want to know which.
If I didn’t know, then there was always a possibility. As we left the others behind, it struck me that on the road, just the two of us, there would be no escaping the question.
Fear, anxiety, excitement, and other feelings I couldn’t name all blurred together, fluttering in my gut. Maybe I would bring it up. Not straight away, but at some point. Or maybe not.
Coward, a corner of me muttered.
Once we were on the road, trotting at a good pace, Bastian cleared his throat. “You’re wearing those boots again.”
I glanced down at the thigh-high leather boots—the ones he’d admired in Lunden. “I am. Is that a problem?”
He eyed me—or rather, them sidelong. “They’re very… distracting.”
The fluttering inside me warmed, and his attention flushed my cheeks. I lifted my chin like I wasn’t affected. “That sounds like a you problem rather than a me problem.”
But I swallowed and had to turn my head to hide my smile. Perhaps I was brave enough to ask. And perhaps it would go well—maybe very well indeed.
Ella must’ve had the same idea. Bastian and I reached our first stop at the edge of a small town that reminded me of Innesol, and when I rummaged in the bottom of my bag, I found one of the lacy nightgowns from Lunden. Ella had been fussing with my bag as we’d said goodbye and must’ve snuck it in. I laughed to myself and threw it back inside.
Over the following days, we rode west, then north into the foothills, and as the weather grew colder, things between us grew warmer. We talked about our work, the city, the circle of friends that had built around us. We talked a little about his childhood, and I burned for how he’d been bullied. I shared my own stories, and noted how he squeezed the reins when I told him about my father’s aggression, even though Avice had borne the brunt of it.
On the third night, as we sat in the private sitting room of our inn suite, sharing a bottle of wine, I even told him about Fant?me and what had happened after. The grave my uncle had dug. Dia’s body already in it. The way he’d made me lie there, burying me a little more each time I moved.
Things between us were whole now, and it felt like the right moment to share it, and he was the right person to share it with.
It was the first time I’d described the experience out loud, and I didn’t get through without tears. But in solid silence, he held me through them, and when I tugged on my necklace, suddenly hating having anything near my neck, he removed it and placed his orrery in my hand.
With that, I got through the whole story and felt a little less broken for it. Maybe his hobby applied to things outside his workroom.
The next day, we rode through a wide, dry mountain pass. Shrubs and grass poked through the recent light snowfall, and at first glance I thought brown shrubby trees grew in the distance. Then they moved.
Bastian didn’t seem concerned by the creatures—didn’t even mention them—and as we got closer, I picked out their sloped backs and long tusks. “Mammoths,” I breathed, the word steaming into the air. I’d read about them and seen pictures in books, but I never dreamed I’d see one.
“Our lands were once connected to the mainland by ice. When it retreated, they were stranded. My people were here; they remember.”
I watched as we rode closer. They moved in a herd, with fur varying from reddish brown to almost black. Two animals—a smaller adult and a calf—had lighter brown coats.
I pressed my hand to my chest, which suddenly felt very full. “Were humans here then, or hadn’t we yet arrived?”
“You had, though I’m not sure you had writing to record it. Eventually, you hunted most of the mammoths on the island to extinction. Remote populations like this one survived.”
“To extinction?” I frowned at the creatures as they used their trunks to tear up clumps of grass and place them in their mouths. “That was short-sighted. If they’d limited their hunting, they would’ve still had more to hunt in the years to come—for their children and grandchildren.”
He snorted and lifted a shoulder. “I’m not going to argue with that. But I suppose only living a short life makes you not consider much beyond its end.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Whereas fae are so far-sighted.”
This time he laughed fully. “No. Not at all. I take it back—it’s nothing to do with how long the life is. People just want something that will benefit them now rather than enduring the pain of wanting.”
That made me huff out a breath. The pain of wanting.