And there it is. A memory. A want. The very thing I’ve needed all along, and yet right here, at this very moment, it’s not enough. It’s not enough, and it’s too much all the same. I want my Aras back; I need him. But I also know that when I save him, it will be too late. I have to give what’s left of my heart away to another, and if I hold onto him like I long to do, I’ll never make us happy. Not Aras. Not Ian. Not me. We’ll all be caught in our webs of misery, and I’m the spider who spun us there.
So when I finally speak, I tell myself it’s for the better. That when it comes time for Aras to remember, he’ll recall this moment, and he’ll understand why my answer must be no.
“Then I’d say you’re a little too late,” I whisper, pulling back from his chest. His head jerks back, eyes crinkling as the confusion takes root. “Good night, Aras Renn of Orien. Perhaps you’ve finally gotten your wish.”
I step away, reeling with the immediate loss of his heat, of his forgotten love. “And what’s that?” he asks, squaring his shoulders and falling back into himself. The one who doesn’t have doubts, feelings, or a will of his own.
“I’m finally learning to let you go.”
Then I open the door, ignoring the tremble of loss that quakes through my bones, and I don’t look back.
Forty-Three
“You’re sure you’ll be fine?” I ask for the second time, although it feels like it might be the hundredth.
Vivi rolls her eyes in answer, a hiss leaving her lips when her comb catches on a particularly large snarl in her hair. I’d laugh if I weren’t so concerned. “I’ll be fine, Brave. I got along without you perfectly for the first fourteen years of my life. And that was living with a fire-breathing devil. I think I can handle one meal on my own.”
Her nose crinkles, eyes narrowed as she tries to work through the relentless knot. Giving up, I stride toward the vanity, unwilling to let my sister suffer for long. Batting away the brush, I coax the unruly strands through my fingers, willing them to give into my call. It’s the very same thing Darcy would do when I had an unforgiving tangle, and believe me, I watched her do it a lot.
“I wish you would join the others for dinner. It’s not like you to want to sit alone in our room. I’m sure Sireen wouldn’t mind keeping you company if you don’t want to deal with everyone else.”
At this point, I’m grasping onto any explanation that will help me understand Vivi’s latest intentions. When I first stumbled my way back into our chambers, still feeling hurt and alone from my encounter with Aras, she feigned a stomachache, claiming there was no sense in going down for dinner when it would only come right back up. Or out, as she so elegantly put it.
But the trouble with my little sister is that she’s never once missed a meal. Skies above, she’s never missed a snack. So when I pressed her for details, honing in on the real reason for her sudden loss of appetite, she shut me out. Slammed me down cold with a wad of unruly hair and a worthless brush to boot.
“You’re sure this has nothing to do with Ian… and our meal tonight?”
Vivi stills, eyes cutting away as if I’ve finally hit the mark. “I care for Ian; we both do. But I also know we both care for Aras.” She turns on the stool, catching my cheeks in her hands. “I know you think you’ll have to go through with this marriage, the real and fake one alike, but don’t give up on him, Brave. Don’t give up on us.”
A heavy frown forms beneath her hands, and I reach up, pulling her fingers into my own. “I’ll never give up on anyone, Vivi.” And because I know she needs to hear it, I add, “I’ll never give up on you.”
She blooms under my praise, her vivid green eyes brimming with tears. Beside us, a door slams, and we both jump, breaking the spell that’s always controlled our hearts. We look toward Aras’ room, unsure if he will barge through our secret door or leave us be. Quiet settles in the air, and together, we let out a shaky breath.
He won’t come to us, at least not tonight.
“Penelope?”
We jump, breaking apart to find Ian standing at the open doorway to our room. His honey hair is smoothed back from his brow, and his normally pale skin is feather-kissed with pink. He grins, and prickles of heat swerve their way up my back. Not because I’m excited or nervous, but because I think I might be scared.
I think there might be no going back.
“Are you ready?” he asks, tucking his hands in his pockets while looking up at me through those long, lowered lashes.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
And we walk out of the room, leaving my little sister, Aras, and all there once ever was behind.
ↄ
“So, what do you think?”
Ian spreads his arms wide as we enter his chambers, his quiet confidence reflecting in the low light of the candlelit room. My eyes dart around, drinking in the open, organized feel. The soft gray drapes that line the open balcony doors. The smooth, stone floors not burdened by fancy carpets. The single desk sitting in the corner. The long, blue chaise lounging by the far wall. And the books. Oh, the books that lie piled on shelves built into the walls, surrounding us in our very own cave of wonder.
Darcy would faint if she could see this room. She would also faint if she knew I was in it. Alone. With Ian.
“It’s magnificent,” I say, realizing he’s still waiting for a response.
Ian tilts his head toward the open door within the wall. A copy, I realize, of my own chambers. “Come on. We’ll eat in here.”
He holds out his hand, sure and steady, and when I reach for him in return, I find that his confidence extends to me, seeping in through my pores and flooding my veins. His gentle coolness sweeps into me, and for once, I allow it to carry me away.
We enter his room to find a small, circular table lit up with a single candle. Its flame sways with our presence, caught with a need to draw us nearer. Ian leads me to the table where layers of food have already been set out for our enjoyment, and I suppress my excitement when I spot the variety of desserts lining the trays.
For a soon-to-be forced husband, Ian sure does seem to know the way to my heart.
“Shall we?” Ian says, and we settle into a nice meal, full of unsaid promises and open ones all the same. To his credit, Ian keeps the conversation light, and it’s not long into the night when my cheeks start to ache with the number of smiles that have graced my lips. But it’s also not until our food is finished, bellies full and hearts somewhat content, that I start to remember why we’re really here. Why we’re together, tucked away in Ian’s chambers while the world around us continues to spin. Faster and faster, until that fateful day when we finally make a choice.
Our choice.
“Would you like to sit outside?” Ian asks, rounding the table and tugging me to stand.
Perhaps if I were a better person, I’d excuse myself for the night. Feign a stomachache like my little sister and return to my room, allowing the heavy cloak of guilt to curl me up into a tiny ball. But I know the look that passes across Ian’s face; I’ve felt it time and time again on my own. Sometimes, the easiest decisions to make are the hardest ones to live without.
We make our way to the open balcony, relishing the soft breeze as it shifts through the fading light. Ian offers me a chair, but I opt to stand, figuring I’ll need my balance for the words he has to say next. Leaning on the ledge, I look out over the palace gardens, a magical place where Ian and I had another kind of conversation not too many moons ago. One where he promised to take my hand in marriage only if I wanted him to. A time when he said he’d only take my love if he’d earned it.
Considering his family has forced my hand, does he think he’s earned it now?
“Penelope.” I flinch, startled to find him leaning on his elbows by my side. “I know this is hard, but would you look at me? Just this once, look at me, and think of nothing else.”
I stiffen, gaze caught in his emerald eyes, and for the first time since we’ve met, I listen. I clear my mind and focus solely
on him. This kind, gentle prince with the brilliant, white smile. The boy with a heart of gold and a cooling touch to soothe my burning skin. The very one who has waited for me—dreamed of me—when all along I knew nothing of him.
The prince of my shadows. The prince of another life.
“I know you chose him long ago,” he says, a stinging sweetness radiating from his core. “I know that even now, when he pushes and hurts, you reach for him—desperate to pull him into your grasp and hold him one last time. I know this, yet I still can’t blame you. I still can’t be upset. For it’s not as if I don’t understand, because I do.” He stops, allowing his fingers to run a soft trail along my jaw. “Penelope, you are my Aras, and I’m deathly afraid to ever let you go.”
“Ian,” I breathe. Wrapping his fingers with my own, I pull back, misery and disbelief stealing the very air from my lungs. “You can’t do this. You can’t give and give and give until there’s nothing left to take. You’ll ruin! You’ll be absolutely spoiled, and it will all be because of me!”
“Penelope—”
“No, Ian!” I choke, breaking his grip. “We can’t go on as if this is alright. As if it’s perfectly normal for your wife’s heart to belong to another. I care for you, Ian. I care for you so much. And do you know what hurts? The knowledge that it will never be enough.”
“But it can be enough for me,” he pleads.
I shake my head, tears streaming down my reddened cheeks. “But I’ll always know you deserve more. I’ll help you, Ian. I’ll defend you to the ends of the earth, but I won’t take your heart. Not when I can’t give you all of mine in return.”
“And if I said I’d take any piece I could get?”
A wave of sadness pulls at my lips, and I reach up, sliding my fingers through his golden hair. He drops his head, nuzzling me into his chest, and we stand, caught in a place where we both long to escape. He to my heart, and me to my lost love.
“Then I’d remind you that nothing is worth as much when it’s broken. Not even the idea of a brazen princess who lives across the trees. She exists, Ian. We both exist. But it doesn’t mean we should always exist together.”
Ian’s arms tense around my frame, and for one selfish moment, I think he’ll toss me away. For I want him to. It’s what I deserve. “And when your father finally arrives, and we end him once and for all, what will happen then? Will you leave and rule over Orien? Will you return to Ashen? Will you struggle to keep a lost Aras by your side?”
I pull back from his chest. His voice is so strong and full of anger it feels as though it’s the first time I’ve seen him alive. “I don’t know, Ian. But I do know I can’t tie you down to an Ashen beast for life if my heart isn’t all the way in it.”
My words must find their mark, because the stormy clouds dissipate, flooding back up into the sky. “Is that so? And what if when Aras awakes… when he’s returned to himself, he finds he doesn’t love you in the same way he once did? What of us then, Penelope? Would you still leave me to suffer in this massive palace all alone?”
I bristle, doubt filling the spot in my chest where my hope used to be. I hadn’t thought of how Aras will feel when he returns. I only assumed he’d still want me. Love me. Now all that’s left for me to do is reflect some of Ian’s assumptions back. “Such ruthless words for such a kind prince, Ian. Tell me, have you always been this sharp with your tongue or have you only developed the skill here recently?”
Ian sighs as if revealing a well-kept secret. “Oh, come now, Penelope. If I were that ruthless, I would have had Viviana swipe Aras with that dagger of yours long ago. It’d be easy to have him out of the way if he were always asleep.”
And just like that, the world as I know it comes to a stop.
“Wait. What did you say?” I balk, chills running the length of my arms.
He frowns, reaching for me when all I want to do is pull back. When all I want to do is run from this room and check on my little sister. My little sister who has been keeping secrets. My little sister who has my dagger. My little sister who promises she can help. My little sister who is alone with…
“I was only joking. I said I should have had Viviana swipe Aras—”
“With my dagger,” I rush, running a clammy hand across my face. “My dagger. Vivi still has my dagger, and she’s…”
“Penelope!” Ian shouts, reaching for me as my boots back me to the doors and into his room. “What is it?”
“What is it?” I repeat, floundering in the sudden haze of my thoughts. The idea that there was more to Papa’s suggestion—that my little sister is even more brave, unruly, and magical than I thought? That there was more to Vivi’s games? That Aras really did need to sleep, so she could… so she could… “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know, Ian, but I have to find my sister. I have to find her now!”
I spin on my heels, knocking into the table with a sickening thud. Dishes clatter to the floor and water floods the stone in giant puddles, but I don’t look back. I don’t have time. I have to make it to my sister. I have to make it to them.
“Penelope!” Ian calls, crashing after me as I dart for the door. “Wait! My wish! I wanted to tell you my wish!”
But I shake my head, not caring what Theron’s traditions have in store for my life, not when I’m so concerned for another’s. Not when my little sister is so determined to help, no matter the cost.
I’ve barely made it out the door, my boots sliding across the carpet and thundering down the hall, when his words catch me from behind, fueling my steps with every breath. “I wished for your happiness. Your happiness, Penelope. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
Forty-Four
The halls are quiet. Every door shut, every eye closed.
But not me.
I am alive. I am burning. I am the roaring flame left unchecked. Where my tearing eyes can no longer see, my heart serves as my guide. Pulling me down the endless corridors, an invisible tether connecting me to my sister’s side.
Don’t worry about Vivi, Papa had said. She has her own way of protecting herself. We all do.
Yes, Papa, we all do. Except I thought Vivi was a strong, spunky little girl simply because she lived a life full of constant terror. She had to be resilient, or else she’d be dead. I never once considered… I never once thought…
I round the bottom staircase, taking the steps two at a time until I’ve reached the top. One hallway down. Then two more turns. And finally…
The door to our chambers stands open, light spilling out from the room like long fingers splayed against the floor. My boots come to a sudden stop, and my hand shoots out to steady myself along the wall. My chest caves and I hunch forward, my breath too far gone to call out now. Heat settles in my palms, the glowing red lighting the hall in an eerie glow, and if I ever thought I had known fear, it is nothing compared to how I feel now.
“Vivi!” I yell, clenching my fists until the building flames sputter into plumes of smoke. I stumble toward the door, rounding the frame just as another figure steps into my path. Strong hands grab me as I start to fall, and I don’t have to guess to know who it is.
I’d recognize the feel of his touch anywhere.
Blue eyes stare back at me, the edges of sleep still holding their blurry grip. But this time, it’s different. This time, there’s a light, a beacon of something clear, true, and full of hope. His raven curls dart in all directions, like the perfect nest waiting for the right bird to settle in. And in this moment, I know I’ve found my home.
“Aras,” I whisper, grabbing his sleeve. He flinches with my touch, and I pull back, only to startle when my hand comes away with a warm, slick film. My palm twists in the light, the red swirls of blood running down my fingers and dripping like rain to the floor. My eyes shoot up, taking in the perfect cut along his sleeve—the very place where I once stabbed Reeve so very long ago. Not too deep, but more than enough.
Aras watches as the red seeps from my skin, silent, but knowing all the same. My hand begin
s to tremble, and I shake my palm, rubbing it against my pants to get rid of the blood. Anything that can bring me back to this place where a stranger stands before me. A stranger who once didn’t remember, but now somehow does.
“Aras?” I breathe, willing him to answer. Willing him to say anything that will let me know he’s all right.
Silently, he lifts my chin with his finger—eyes roaming across my face as if it’s his first drink in forever. The paleness of my cheeks. The watery sheen of my eyes. The tiny lines of confusion across my brow. The arch of my lips.
He drinks, and he drinks, and he drinks. His bottom lip quivers, jaw clenched tight in an effort to hold it all in. And then, in one massive plunge, he drowns.
“My Bravest Penelope,” he whispers, pulling me against his chest. His mouth finds my neck, soft kisses teasing against my ear, and it’s all I can do but to lean into his arms while the world crumbles at my feet. “My Bravest Penelope, what have I done?”
My chest tightens, and I fight to cover my sob as I wrap my arms around his neck. His cheek burrows into my shoulder, warm breaths sending chills across my limbs, and I wonder how I ever survived without the feel of his touch. The smell of his honeyed skin. “It’s fine, Aras. You’re back—that’s all that matters to me now.”
I look up, willing him to see the truth shining in my eyes, when a flash of movement catches my vision. For a moment, everything stills, and there is nothing left in this room except for me, my little sister, and the powerful secret she kept from us all. The secret that saved us. The secret that brought us all back to life.
My sister is a special one; I’ve known this all along. But even I couldn’t have predicted how important she would come to be. How special. How unique.
For my littlest sister, my Vivi, was born with a powerful magic she was never supposed to keep.
The Darkest Night (The Orien Trilogy Book 2) Page 27
