by Valerie Mars
“Of course. See you later, man.”
He turns to take his leave, but I don’t know when I’ll see him next, especially if he’s at his dad’s beck and call. “Hold on, Darkness. Give me a hug before you go.” I latch onto him, squeezing tightly. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? And give me a real hug!”
I feel his arms wrap around and give me a tiny squeeze, and then it’s over. “I’ll see you soon,” he says, nodding to Bash before becoming one with the shadows.
I breathe in through my nose, soaking up the last bit of pine in the air. “That’s spooky as hell.”
“Mhmm.”
I return to the fire to find Bash’s half-assembled s’more, abandoned. “Awww, Bash. Now your marshmallow’s cold.” The moment the words part my lips, I realize how silly it is to worry if a living flamethrower has something cold. Hashtag human problems. A wild grin stretches across my face, and I pull him back down to the pillows. “There’s actually another reason I wanted to do this,” I admit.
His eyes widen as he leans closer. “Oh?”
“I’ve suspected this entire time,” I say, picking up his open-faced s’more, “that your magic can toast the perfect golden-brown marshmallow.”
He closes his eyes for a moment, opening them into a blank stare. “Of course. That makes sense. Yes,” he blinks. “Let’s try it.” I give the sandwich to him and his eyes swirl. Rather than summoning flames, his hands glow from within, appearing a fluorescent orange in the night. The marshmallow slowly heats, and it strikes me that his hands are glowing the same way the inside of a toaster would. Elegant comparison, I know. He chars the edges to his liking, and I hand him the second cracker.
“I hope you like it more than Kai.”
He eats three quarters of it in one bite, astonishing me before I have the mind to remember this is how he always eats. He chews, pops the rest of it into his mouth, and finishes.
“Not bad. I’ll have another.”
How does he even know when he’s demolished it in three seconds? And wait a second. Not bad?
“Me, too,” I sigh. “The digestif wrecked me.” We prepare another marshmallow each in silence, so I ask him something that’s been on my mind a little. “Have you seen August yet?”
“Decided to stay home,” he says, turning his stick.
“Why? Are you disappointed?”
He bites his cheek. “They figure if war is coming, they would rather spend their remaining time with the children. Yes and no to the second question. I was in a different place the last time we met, so part of me wanted to see him—show him who I’ve become.” He looks down. “But this is fine, too. I could benefit from time in the capital without his presence.”
“How’s that going so far?”
He turns and turns the marshmallow, staring into the fire. “I’ve felt more alive the past week than I have in years, and that’s for two reasons. Number one, I swung a sword for the first time in ages.” He mimes the action with his stick while speaking, and we both watch his marshmallow land in the fire.
I’m near tears with laughter, reaching across him to grab another. He catches my forearm, jolting me from my howling.
“Oh. No more?” He shakes his head. I can feel his pulse through his grip on my arm. It’s fast. “Bash, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing…but also a great deal.” He glances at his hand encircling my forearm, lips parting to speak before shutting. He returns to my eyes, the flames in his own dancing in a way that makes it difficult to decipher if it’s the brazier’s reflection or his flames from within. “Reason number two, Mallory Meadowbrook, is that I met you.”
Gulp.
The raspberry libation works in tandem with my heart, roaring to be unshackled. A sliver of doubt steps on the chain, urging me to consider Ferra’s warnings. But the roar topples over my fear, escaping in a whisper.
“Same.” I feel his pulse quicken, his chest rising and falling in my periphery. “Other than the sword part, of course. Although it was also my first time to swing a sword in ages, but it wasn’t a sword and I’ve never swung a sword anyw—”
“Mal, can I kiss you? I know your time here is limited, but—”
“Yes.” Damn this digestif and its treacherous honesty.
He releases me, placing either hand on the ground to lift and pivot his body toward mine. One palm remains between us, the other resting on his knee as he leans close. There’s no mistaking the fire in his eyes now, called forth by emotion the same way Ryland’s rage tangles one’s hair.
I meet him halfway, both of us stopping short; waiting for the other to bolt. I snort at the impasse, throwing my hand to the nape of his neck and closing the distance.
I’ll never mistake a simple bonfire for him again. He’s salt and smoke and spicy sandalwood—a dangerously intoxicating mixture exclusively his own. Our mouths meet softly as if to test the waters. I pull back, wetting my lips and enjoying the way my heart has taken off to match his. He grins, wisps of flame flickering in his eyes.
This time it’s Bash who takes initiative, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me in. His hand feels like an inferno through my dress. He captures me with an open-mouthed kiss, claiming my bottom lip. I immediately reciprocate, the two of us trading dominance as we sample each other’s mouths. The exploration grows from curious to needy, my hands threading through the mess of his hair as our lips begin to mash. His tongue traces my bottom lip, and then I’m lost. I climb onto his lap in my need to be closer, wrapping my legs around his waist until our chests press together. We devour each other without thoughts of air, and the heat from his hand begins to pale in comparison to the heat in my core.
I plant my forehead to his, gasping for breath. His hands meet either side of my face as he leans back. He looks into my eyes with a dopey smile, and my heart loses its rhythm. A bump in the ridge of his nose catches my notice for the first time, and I lightly trace it.
“Have you always had this?”
“That one was earned,” he replies, voice full of gravel.
“Do bones not heal as well as skin for fae?” His hands drop to clasp behind my back.
“They do, but repeated trauma leaves its mark when the body learns to expect it.” He bites his swollen lip, and I weakly resist the urge to go in for round two. “There were a lot of fights. Some in honest fun, but many in bad faith. I had something to prove to the world back then.”
I nudge his chin back up, locking onto his eyes. “And now?”
A puff of hot air escapes his nose in a silent snort. “Probably still do,” he shrugs. “Just a different something these days.”
I mirror his reaction. “Don’t we all.”
He gives me a squeeze. “What does Mallory of Meadowbrook have to prove?”
I look to the stars, because it’s still unclear. “It depends on who you ask. To my parents, I must prove that the daughter they wanted is still here.” That part is straightforward. “To myself?” Several beats pass. “That I’m worthy of love, no matter what they decide. And then there’s this council of nine…”
“I can only attest to the second,” he says, applying Grandma-like smooches to either cheek. “As for the nine, they can eat sea scum. Although I do enjoy that you’re here to teach me about s’mores and,” he wiggles his body, brows waggling, “this.”
I grin. “Me, too.”
“Why is it called a s’more?” he asks while tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.
“Because it’s so good that you’ll be asking for some more.”
“Well, then,” he says, cupping the side of my face. “May I have some more?” His lips press to mine, and so begins round two.
25
Kai
Zeke’s interruption would be more welcome if he had intervened before I took my second bite of s’more. While I align with Mallory’s affection for tacos, I can’t share her love of this sweet concoction. But it wasn’t the s’mores which brought me to Stargazer’s Point, anyway.
It
certainly wasn’t my appreciation of desserts, for I possess none. It’s possible I attended as a curious onlooker, to gain more time with the fascination that is Mallory. Unfortunately for my curiosity, my experience became that of a caretaker as I attempted to corral a giddy Mallory and love-struck Sebastian.
That outcome was sealed the moment the digestif touched their lips, though.
I tell him to see she makes it home, relating the second message through my eyes: You hurt her, I hurt you. The irony in protecting her from the one I knelt side by side to protect her with isn’t lost on me. I also realize there’s little one can do to protect another from matters of the heart, but I tell him all the same.
I intend to make my leave, but Mallory calls out. “Hold on, Darkness. Give me a hug before you go.”
She embraces me with zeal in her post-digestif glow, unaware that darkness is least of what I strive to be. Darkness is my origin and inheritance.
Her fierce embrace squeezes me out from my thoughts. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? And give me a real hug!”
A real hug. What makes a hug real? I suppose for her it’s the squeezing, so I apply likewise pressure around her frame before disengaging. It seems satisfactory, so I say my goodbyes and sink into the shadows.
Not because I have to, but because they fit me like an old glove. Because I need something familiar in the face of everything fresh and intriguing. I need to be reminded of who I am, of who the person I’m visiting expects to meet.
Being on this side of the castle cuts the usual trek to the dungeons in half. I’m partial to Father’s sunlit office in the citadel, but his preference for the traditional Shadows headquarters is understandable now that war is brewing.
A wind-whispering scout announces me to the gatekeepers, the fortified doors parting as I arrive. The men salute me before heaving it shut. I navigate the labyrinth of cells and holding chambers until reaching the war room. Bane and Fennel, the latter a surprisingly savage Spring warrior, nod as I let myself in.
He’s poring over maps upon maps, a glass of mead in his hand. “I heard you were off with the mortal? I’ve been meaning to ask: How many did you bed during your banishment?”
I choose a modest number. “Nine, sir. A few were tolerable enough for a second or third round.” He likely knows as well as I that I’ve bedded fewer than that my entire life.
He takes a sip, flipping through a stack of village maps. “And young Meadowbrook?”
“Ankerstrand has his eye on that one.” And probably his hands, thanks to this summoning.
“The boy hasn’t changed a bit. Have a seat, Kaiser.”
I sit across the long desk, planting my hands on my knees.
He frowns while shaking his head. “The iron realm’s odor still clings to you, although I only smell it now that you’re close. You aren’t reading again, are you?”
I shake my head. “No, sir.”
“Good. Now especially isn’t the time. Get anything out of your pairing tonight?”
“Unfortunately not. She’s eager to serve, but not overly. I’ve determined her reaction at breakfast to be genuine. We have Shadows on Kael Noxhelm, but at a distance. There’s nothing yet to report.”
He drains the mead, ice rattling around the empty glass. “Two more farming folk sought the lower infirmary this morning. A handful in their village of forty have fallen ill. They left with a medic and supplies, but how long until the citadel can no longer offer these resources and we bar the gates?”
“Hopefully longer than it takes to assemble the quads.”
“We better do more than shyly hope, or we’ll have civil unrest on our hands while we’re at it. Where are you tomorrow?”
“I was thinking the lower ring. Newcomers will be eager to explore the city and its pleasures.” It’s also where Mallory and Twyla will be shopping.
“Assign five more to do the same.”
“Already done, sir.”
The corners of his lips tug upward, and I know the words I long and loathe to hear are imminent. No matter how many decades pass, it’s the one thing that never fails to stir something in me.
“That’s my boy.” Like a Pavlovian dog, pride swells in my chest as I receive the one sincere source of affection my father has to offer.
Satisfied with our conversation and chipper from mead, he goads me into a few rounds of knife fighting, not content until I’ve bested him once, and him at least twice that over me.
He pats me on the back as I exit. “Don’t let Ankerstrand have all the fun.”
Judging by the moon’s position before I wasted all this time, he’s probably had his fun and gone to bed. I should go to bed, too.
I take a shortcut through the tunnels, exiting through a door outside the castle’s main entrance. Lights further down the castle’s outer wall illuminate the sizable crew setting up to paint. The entire castle and citadel will be black by the end of the week, and it wouldn’t surprise me if every building of the inner ring meets the same fate. I’m not sure why we’re worrying about buildings this deep into the city when they’d already be lost if an army made its way this deep, but maybe it works to calm fears. Managing the populace’s psyche is another form of protection in itself. It’s a shame to see these historic structures marred, but such is war.
I’ve just reached the shadow of the citadel when her laughter reaches my ears. As quick as shadows, I become darkness. Bash and Mallory emerge from the castle with their hands clasped together. My fist clenches painfully, still tender from catching Father’s knife. This isn’t the time for someone like Ankerstrand to get distracted. Not now. But she looks happy and deserves comfort during this absurd venture she’s been thrown into. And I can resume my duties if she’s left unattended less often.
Logically, I know that’s what I should want. It is what I want. But something compels me back to her stairway daily, to the locations of her friends, hoping to catch a glimpse. I tell myself it’s the fulfillment of my oath, but she’s quickly become another interest to add to the list of hazardous pastimes that’ll earn me banishments and iron poisoning. It won’t do.
The more fun Bash has, the closer I get to normalcy.
Yet here I am, already wondering how she’s making her commitment with Twyla tomorrow, having arrived so late to her dwellings without a time keeper inside. A plan to remedy her morning takes shape well into mine, and I vaguely wonder what conversations we’d have had if it was a date between the two of us, as she had joked to Twyla at Bash’s expense. It’s a foolish thought.
I dream I’m back in the human realm, eating tacos with Mallory and Clara while discussing a movie we saw together. Bash arrives later, kissing Mallory’s forehead and thanking me for looking after her. I go home and read Pride and Prejudice in the dark.
I rap my knuckles on her door, fighting the yawn that’s been prodding at my lips. The human realm was too comfortable, and it left me complacent. I’m no longer accustomed to long nights, the sun too bright despite it being late morning.
She’s still dead asleep, the ghost of a snore bubbling in the back of her throat. I knock louder, calling her name. Whispers of sheets greet my ears, so I knock once more to be sure. “Mallory?”
She awakens with a single snort, her consciousness only halfway present. “Kai?”
“You’ll be late for your shopping if you don’t awaken.” I wait. No response. “I brought coffee.”
That does the trick, her bare feet hitting the floor and stumbling across the room. She opens the door in a thin sleep set, her long hair tangled from sleep. “What time is it?”
I wave the time piece I brought for her dwellings. “Half past ten or so.”
She sobers right up. “Oh my gosh, I would have slept all day. And you brought coffee? You’re my favorite person right now, come on in.” Never mind the magic-fueled mechanical clock I paid someone with lightning gifts to power up. She only has eyes for bean juice.
I head to the coffee table and unload the goods while she throws
on a sweater. She returns as I’m pouring the coffee, settling onto the couch. “Do you take cream or sugar?”
“Cream, if you have it.” I set the coffee and cream before her, which she turns into a mug of cream with coffee.
“Sorry again for bailing early. I take it you and Bash made the best of it?”
She raises the mug to her mouth, gulping half the volume in one swig. “I hated to see you go, but it was good! I got to learn more about him and he toasted the perfect marshmallow by hand for me. What’d you end up doing?” She tilts her head. “Or is that top secret?”
I shrug. “My father asked a few questions, we brainstormed a bit, and then we tried to maim each other with knives for a spell.”
She only raises a brow, unmoved by my dry exaggeration. “Sparring?” I nod, and she hovers over the domed plate. “You’re entirely too thoughtful and I don’t deserve you, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not dying to know what’s for breakfast under there. It smells amazing.”
“Lift it and find out.” She does, and her lips press into a flat line, her brows meeting over hopeful eyes.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“As best as I could cobble together, yes.”
She squeals in the same manner as last night, but this time she’s sober. And this time it was I who provoked it. Well, my breakfast tacos get the credit—but that’s me adjacent. Her feet dance in anticipation as she snatches a taco.
“It won’t be the same as home, but it has a lot of the same spices and compone—”
She hushes me before taking a bite, chewing eagerly before beginning to wiggle side to side.
“Did I do it right?”
She hums an affirmation and swallows. “Kai, you’ve found the fourth piece of my heart.”
I smile, but part of my chest feels like it’s burning. “Mine too, I’m afraid,” I say, grabbing one for myself. “Provided I don’t go for the entire menu at once.”
